


Under Your Scars

by Gimmemore



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: (at least I hope I wrote it that way), (mentally anyways), (very very brief), Accidental Bonding, Aftermath of Torture, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Blow Jobs, Bonding, Break Up, Childhood Trauma, Cock Warming, Coming Untouched, Consent Issues, Declarations Of Love, Depression, Disfigurement, Dom/sub, Edgeplay, Emotional Hurt, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Episode: s01e12 The Conscience of the King, Episode: s02e15 Journey to Babel, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Finger Sucking, Five Year Mission, Forgiveness, Gay Sex, Getting Back Together, Hand & Finger Kink, Happy Ending, Heavy Angst, Hurt Jim, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Genocide, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Kidnapping, Lack of Communication, Leonard "Bones" McCoy is a Good Friend, Light Bondage, M/M, Major Character Injury, Mental Link, Minor Character Death, Nightmares, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Past Child Abuse, Post-Star Trek Beyond, Praise Kink, Psychological Trauma, References to Canon, Safe Sane and Consensual, Scars, Spanking, Subspace, Suicidal Thoughts, T'hy'la, Tarsus IV, Telepathic Bond, Time Skips, Torture, Trauma, Vulcan Bond, mind violation, vulcan hand kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-06-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:21:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 35,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24768418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gimmemore/pseuds/Gimmemore
Summary: Spock believed things between him and the captain were proceeding well after Yorktown; their lives settling into normal parameters and perhaps, even evolving into something more.But after picking up new crewmembers from Starbase 2, things begin to unravel, and a chasm grows between them.  Then, the unthinkable happens.  Jim’s past catches up to him – reopening old wounds and laying new ones – refusing to let go until Jim has paid the ultimate price.Can Spock and the crew make it to Jim before his past exacts its toll?  And can the distance between them and the scars they bear be healed before it’s too late?
Relationships: James T. Kirk/Spock
Comments: 97
Kudos: 184
Collections: T’hy’la Bang 2020





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2020 _T'hy'la_ Bang Challenge.
> 
> Inspired by the song, "Under Your Scars" by Godsmack
> 
> My wonderful artist partner, [Ceostre](https://ceostre.tumblr.com/post/621638212351311872), created some gorgeous art!! Please go show them some love!
> 
> Fic beta'd by the ever supportive Captain Raven Knight!
> 
> Even still, any remaining mistakes are my own!

The day had begun and proceeded like any other: exploring the universe with data to decipher and duties to perform. Spock found a certain solace in the predictability. The quiet, scientific pursuit of knowledge and new discoveries soothed him.

While compounding data on the newly discovered class L planet, his station pinged with an incoming message. Opening it, he found a notification from Starfleet command on upcoming crew changes. Before the commencement of the standard winter celebrations in a week, they were to report to Starbase 2 and pick up the newest members of the Enterprise and release those who were either transferring or retiring.

As the first officer, it was his duty to review the list before handing it off to his captain for final approval. Though Starfleet had run their own background checks, after the debacle with Admiral Marcus and his daughter, Doctor Carol Marcus, Spock had taken a personal interest in vetting each and every individual coming aboard. He would not be caught off guard again, nor allow the Enterprise and her crew to be endangered by it. They had been through too much already.

Pulling up his own algorithm, he imported the data into his file and executed the search. He would know within the next few hours if there were any issues that needed to be addressed. Satisfied, he turned back to the incoming planetary data and fell into an easy routine for the rest of the day.

Upon the end of his shift, he transferred the working file to his personal computer in his quarters. After a brisk data transfer to his science station replacement, he entered the turbo lift with the rest of his alpha shift crew members, though Jim was noticeably absent. He had been called away near the end of shift by an urgent communication from Admiral Komack and had not returned. 

Spock made the quick decision to skip eating his evening meal in the cafeteria and head straight for his quarters. He still had plenty of work to occupy him and the lack of interruptions helped him complete tasks with even higher efficiency.

Exiting deck five, he walked with easy strides to his quarters. Upon entering, he immediately turned on his terminal and opened the crew manifest to continue its compiling. He removed his uniform shirt but left the black undershirt on, tossing the dirty clothing into the hamper. Keying codes into his personal synthesizer for _kreyla_ , fresh fruit, and water, he took his dinner to his desk and returned to work.

He worked diligently for the next hour in peaceful solitude before a loud bang startled him. It came from the bathroom he shared with Jim. Though the tritanium walls were soundproof for many species, his Vulcan hearing could still detect more robust sounds. Another bang sounded, then, “Fucking Komack! Who the fuck does he think he is?”

Jim let loose some more choice expletives before Spock heard the distinct hum of the sonic shower engaging. Though he was curious as to what had evoked such a response, he would wait until Jim was ready to tell him. Spock had found it was easier than confronting him. Much like himself, Jim was not readily comfortable sharing more personal issues. It seemed they both had walls that would take time to dismantle.

Satisfied Jim was well, though clearly agitated, he turned back to his computer when it beeped, notifying him that the search was complete. He opened the file and was disheartened. It indicated two issues among the proposed new crew: a communications lieutenant and an engineering ensign.

He pulled up the details on the ensign first. He perused the flags and pressed his lips into a thin line. It seemed the ensign had suffered a minor depressive break, though the records were difficult to track down. Apparently, the ensign’s father was rather resourceful and suppressed much of the information. Though depressive episodes were not grounds for dismissal, being aboard a starship and dealing with the rigors and stressors of such a life, created a unique mental strain. Monitoring and therapeutic evaluations were standard practice for those susceptible to such episodes.

He closed the ensign’s file for the time being and opened the other. This file seemed to have a similar issue with their personnel file, only this one had a tremendous gap in their formative years before six Terran years of age. In fact, the information was non-existent, as if it had been erased, or alternatively, secured behind a high-level, classified wall.

Spock immediately dictated a communication to Starfleet command requesting further information and guidance on the two potential crewmembers, along with his concerns and issues of note and sent it off. He hoped to have an answer by ship’s morning. Spock had just begun to muse on his findings when Jim burst into his room.

“Spock, you will never believe what – “

Turning sharply, Spock held up his hand for silence. Jim’s mouth snapped shut, his eyes widening. “Rules,” he intoned. “State your purpose.”

Jim stood stock still and bit his lip, contemplating. 

During the last few months, their relationship had evolved into something more…unique. It occurred quite by accident after Jim had pulled yet another foolish stunt and put himself in harm’s way. Spock’s grasp on his emotional control had wavered, and once he had gotten Jim back to his quarters and safely within his arms, his fear, frustration, and relief gave way to a dominant side he had not prepared for. He had been rough and punishing, demanding and forceful, and Jim had melted under his touch, keening and mewling his appreciation. Jim’s responses had been intoxicating. His own reactions had been impressive as well.

But in the aftermath, when he had seen the marks and bruises upon Jim’s skin, guilt and shock overtook him. He quickly apologized for his lack of control and rough handling. Jim soothed him, reassuring him he had enjoyed it and that they were marks he would gladly wear. Then he had shyly asked if they could try something new. If Spock would be willing to participate in a dominant/submissive relationship.

Jim’s tongue had darted out, licking his lips in nervousness as he briefly explained the roles. He’d never asked someone for this; there weren’t many he could trust in that way, who wouldn’t take advantage. Jim’s eyes warmed, dilating as he bit his lower lip before confessing how much he desired it.

Spock’s mind recalled the colorful memories of their interaction and imagined further scenarios. He readily agreed to the experimentation.

Then, as would any reputable scientist, he spent days researching the rules and parameters of such a relationship and found it encompassed more than just a variety of sexual pleasure, but a give and take, and exploration of release for them both. But first and foremost, it was based in trust. Further, if he could achieve guiding Jim into subspace, it could provide a meditative means with which Jim could relinquish control without fear of failure or repercussions by entrusting Spock with his every decision. Intrigued, he found himself craving the promise of deeper intimacies.

Over the next several months they experimented, finding a rhythm they both enjoyed. Spock was surprised how naturally they assumed their roles and how much enjoyment they gained from them.

However, given their positions on the Enterprise, they had established a rule early on for initiating conduct. During off duty hours, and only within Spock’s quarters, Jim would announce his intentions by giving two responses. One indicated his purpose within Spock’s quarters: either business or pleasure. ‘Business’ and they would remain captain and commander, discuss relevant ship issues and not venture into their intimate lives. ‘Pleasure’ and they would be together in whatever intimacy they desired.

Admiral Komack had indeed flustered Jim. It was the first time he had disobeyed the rules since they had been established. For that, there would be a necessary consequence, but Spock first needed to know how to proceed.

He could already see Jim’s body vibrating with anticipation, his pupils dilating as his tongue again peeked out to flick along his lower lip. Spock knew what the answer would be. Jim swallowed, adam’s apple bobbing as he whispered out, “Pleasure.”

“Mm.” Spock stood slowly, tucking his hands behind him, and taking deliberate, controlled steps towards Jim. When he could feel the warmth of Jim’s body skin seep into his clothes, he stopped. He did not touch him. There was only one additional question Jim had to answer. It was one Spock had insisted on, to ensure he always had Jim’s consent before continuing. 

He leaned forward until he was a mere centimeter away from the delicate lobe of Jim’s ear. Maintaining the minute cushion of air between them, he waited a few pointed breaths, knowing the air caressing along sensitive skin would arouse. Jim’s respiratory rate increased, and if he _listened_ , he could almost hear the rapid throb of Jim’s pulse in his neck. 

“Open or obedient?” he asked, his pitch a low rumble.

Once again, Jim would make the choice. If the answer was ‘open’, they would engage in all the parameters of their relationship freely, as any other couple would. If ‘obedient,’ they would fall into their agreed dominant/submissive roles and responsibilities.

Jim’s entire body shivered as he let out a moan, breath hitching. “Fuck. I – I want obedient,” he stammered.

Spock stepped back, nodding once. He looked at Jim, adorned in only his black, Starfleet-issue boxer briefs and raised his brow at the thickening length pressing against the fabric. Jim was already agitated, a heightened state brought on from his apparent disagreement with Komack.

He could sense Jim’s need for stillness. Jim’s desire to submit came from a deep need to reach a singular peace and drown out all the noise within his mind. Spock found he enjoyed providing that solace for him and being able to savor it as well.

After a brief consideration, Spock decided to try an idea he had researched, but they had not yet attempted. It should help Jim relax and, if successful, be quite enjoyable for them both.

“Do not move,” he ordered. He stepped over to his meditation area, removing the kneeling mat and pulling the belt loose from his robe draped nearby. He headed back to his desk and laid the mat on the floor underneath it. Belt in his hand, he turned to face Jim.

“Come here. Back to me, hands clasped to elbows behind you.” Jim moved quickly to obey. Spock took a moment to admire Jim’s bare shoulders and wide expanse of his back. He grabbed his wrists, wrapping the belt around them and binding his hands to his arms. He stepped back. “Turn around.”

He noted Jim’s cock was now fully erect, pushing hard against the constriction of his boxers, and his skin was flushed pink.

“Kneel here,” – he pointed at the mat – “facing out.”

Jim’s face was one of open curiosity, but he did as he was told, dropping soundly to his knees. Spock felt a warmth suffuse him, arousal pooling and simmering in his gut. Jim was gorgeous, pliant, and willing.

Spock sat down in his chair, moving slowly back towards his desk and Jim. “We are going to try something called ‘cock warming,’” he said, pushing authority into his statement that brooked no room for argument. Though Spock took his role seriously, as did Jim, Spock could not stop the blush that pricked his skin, tingling along his ears and cheeks. Sometimes he still could not quite fathom the evolution of their relationship.

Despite his tinge of nervousness, he continued by unzipping his slacks, pushing down the band on his boxers to pull his cock free of its confinement. He was only half-hard, though it was only his Vulcan discipline keeping him so. This scene was not foremost about arousal, though that could happen, but about relaxation and focus, a meditation for Jim in his submissive role.

“You will keep my cock warm with your mouth, and only your mouth. You will not suck or lick or otherwise attempt to arouse.” His voice vibrated, low and deep. “You will not talk unless I approve it nor move from that position. You will remain doing so until I tell you to stop or you need to use your safeword. Understood?”

Jim nodded, eyes bright with anticipation. Spock scooted the chair forward until Jim’s chest was flanked by his legs and held tight between them. “Open,” he commanded.

Jim eagerly did as he was told, and Spock slipped his half hard cock into Jim’s warm, wet mouth. Jim sighed and nuzzled him but did not suck nor use his tongue. Spock’s heart hammered in his side, as he fought to control his body’s reactions to Jim’s lips spread around him, mouth engulfing him. It took a few moments, but Jim adjusted, closing his eyes and laying his head upon Spock’s thigh. Spock let a miniscule sigh escape his lips.

Jim was beautiful, relaxed between his legs.

His fingers twitched, aching to feel him. He gave into the impulse and ran his fingers through Jim’s hair, stroking along his scalp, doling out praise in a gentle purr. “Perfect. You are doing so well.”

A slight whimper vibrated along his cock but nothing more. He indulged a few moments longer before taking a steadying breath, removing his hands, and going back to work at his console. There was work he intended to finish, and this would give Jim time to unwind and relax.

Forty-five minutes went by more quickly than he anticipated. He had accomplished much in such a short period, perhaps driven by the constant reminder of his partner’s mouth around him. He peered down to look and could see even breathing, relaxed closed eyes, and saliva leaking from the corner of Jim’s mouth down his slack. Whether asleep or in subspace, it appeared they could view this interlude as a success. Excellent.

He reached down for Jim, lightly brushing across his scalp, threading his fingers gently through golden locks. Jim hummed and shifted minutely but did not move. Subspace then. “Jim. Open your eyes.”

Jim’s eyes fluttered open – unfocused, drowsy, and tranquil – and he swallowed, his tongue creating pressure along the bottom of Spock’s cock as he did so. Disoriented, he began to sit up, Spock sliding partially out of his mouth. Alarmed at his mistake, Jim quickly caught himself and sunk back down on Spock.

Spock nodded. “Very good,” he soothed. “You remembered.” He continued to reassure him, caressing his hair in even strokes, himself enjoying the light heat of friction building on his sensitive digits. He let the moment linger a bit more before pulling away. “You may release me and sit up.”

Jim did as he was told, dropping Spock from his mouth with a wet _plop_. He stretched his jaw and rolled shoulders. Spock pushed back from his desk and quickly tucked himself back into his clothes. Hooking his hands under Jim’s arms, he assisted him in maneuvering to stand, surmising he might have issues standing after spending such time on his knees. He was indeed a bit unsteady, his eyes still glazed. Jim’s head fell to his chest, nuzzling in. He held him close until he felt Jim’s muscles engage enough to stabilize his body.

“How do you feel?”

“Mmmm, good. Really good. Relaxed.”

“Then you enjoyed it?”

“Yeah.”

Spock nodded, mentally adding this to the list of activities they could try again. “Turn around and I will untie you.”

“Actually…can we leave it?” Jim blushed deeply. “I want…will you fuck me like this?”

Spock debated. Their scenes did not always mean having intercourse, but sometimes, one or both of them would be so sensitized by their scenes, it was a natural progression they desired.

“I feel so good,” Jim hummed, rubbing his cheek against him like a contented cat, “and I know you can make me feel even better.” He pulled back to look at Spock, those blue eyes piercing and pleading. “Please.”

Spock twitched. He did enjoy Jim being pliant and open for him. They spent so much time in their lives guarded and wary, both professionally and personally, that having this trust and freedom was addicting.

Making sure Jim wished to remain fully in his role, Spock checked in again. “Open or obedient?”

He watched as goosebumps pimpled along Jim’s skin. His nipples peaked and his cock twitched against the black cloth of his underwear, a wet spot steadily growing. “Obedient, gods please.”

“Very well. Here,” Spock pointed, “on the desk. But first, we will remove these.” He put his fingers just inside the waistband of his underwear and ran them along Jim’s skin watching as his pupils dilated further in arousal. He lowered them down painfully slow, ghosting his breath along uncovered skin as he went, teasing them both. 

Once naked, Jim shimmied up onto the desktop. Spock sat back in his chair and scooted forward, placing himself between Jim’s legs. He placed his hands upon toned thighs starting just above his knee and pressed slow circles into Jim’s skin with his thumbs. He repeated the motions over and over as he worked his way upwards to the junction of his legs. He used his touch telepathy to create a slight buzz against Jim’s skin – their want and desire manifested into tangible energy – and waited.

He focused on the sensual feel of his fingers digging into firm muscle mass and the pricks of hair rough against his palms. Jim could be worked up, hypersensitized to every touch, by making him focus on one spot while denying all others.

Jim indulged him until Jim’s patience waned and he struggled to remain still. Jim’s cock, red and turgid, twitched in eagerness as the long moments passed and the rhythmic circles drew closer. A small whine escaped as he tilted his head back in frustration.

Spock conceded. He continued the path up to Jim’s groin, thumbs and fingers still working, and pressed deep on either side of Jim’s cock. Hips bucked, and Jim’s whimper grew louder and sharper pitched. The tip of Jim’s cock now glistened with a single, beaded pearl drop.

Though Spock could prolong the interlude, he found himself yearning to bury himself inside Jim, aching to relieve them both. “You may speak freely. However, you will not come until I give you permission. Understood?”

“Yes,” Jim breathed, his eyes darkening to a deep ocean blue.

Without changing the rhythm or the pressure of his digits, he leaned forward and licked the tip of Jim’s cock, tasting the fluid gathered there. He let the semi-sweet flavor burst on his palate, savoring, and then firmly pressed down to hold Jim’s hips still before he swallowed all of Jim in one breath.

“Oh, fuck me,” Jim exclaimed. 

Spock pulled off with a pop and ground out, “I intend to,” before engulfing Jim once more. He sucked and licked and teased until Jim’s skin shone with a thin sheen of sweat. Unable to brace himself with his hands or buck into Spock’s mouth, Jim’s thighs shook with the strain. Spock stopped, pulling off when he felt Jim grow thick and heavy against his tongue and his body grow taut under his hands.

Jim groaned loudly in complaint.

Spock resumed his massage, the skin now humid and heated, and watched as Jim fell from his peak. Once he was sure Jim would be able to withstand another round, he engulfed him again. Over and over he repeated the same simple steps; working Jim into a frantic mess before pulling free and waiting while Jim came down, squirming and begging. “Please, I need – Spock, please.”

“Open your mouth.” Jim instantly obeyed. Spock shivered. This was one of the few things Spock considered entirely self-indulgent. He pushed three fingers into Jim’s mouth, pressing tight against his tongue and ordered, “Suck.” 

Nostrils flared and eyes blazed as Jim’s plump lips closed around his fingers and gave a hard pull. Spock’s body, having long enjoyed the low simmer, crackled into a robust fire. Jim’s mouth was equal parts divinity and sin. He wrapped his other hand around Jim’s length and slowly stroked. Hips hitched as far as they dared without unbalancing his position, attempting to push flesh harder into his palm. Jim groaned in both annoyance and approval of the pressure. 

Spock took a sharp breath. The vibration against his fingers combined with the wet heat of Jim’s mouth, nearly undid him. “Make them wet.”

Jim instantly stopped sucking, instead using his tongue to swirl wildly around his fingers to properly lubricate them. Jim bit down lightly as Spock pulled out, scraping teeth along his delicate skin. Spock’s nerves sang. “Enough,” he gasped. His fingers pulled free, overly sensitive and drenched. At the same time, he released Jim’s cock. 

Wrapping an arm around Jim’s waist, he pulled him forward off the desk to stand on shaky legs and drew them together. He dove into Jim’s mouth, kissing full lips and licking his way inside. They kissed until the air in their lungs was scarce and their lips were swollen.

Without warning, he pulled on one side of Jim’s waist, spinning him around. He ran the hand up his back, stopping to push between his shoulder blades and force him face down onto the desk. Jim’s breath blew out in a huff as Spock followed him, his weight pushing down upon him. 

He whispered into his ear, “I will have you, exactly like this; bent over my desk while I open you with my fingers.” Jim keened, his breaths heaving. “Once I have indulged myself and you are begging for more, I’ll impale myself, filling you over and over again until the only thing you can manage is my name, screaming out from your lips.”

“Fuuuuck. Oh my gods, yes.”

“Mm, I am no god.” He nipped at the base of his neck, biting and sucking his way back to his ear. “However,” he continued, “you are still not allowed to come without my permission.” Spock dragged his hand down Jim’s side, coming around to grip at the hard, heavy cock dripping between Jim’s legs. To emphasize the point, he squeezed hard at the base, feeling it swell against the pressure. “Understood?”

Jim agreed with a shaky, “Yes.”

Without further preamble, Spock shifted, lifting up from Jim’s body, moving his hand from Jim’s cock to grip his bound arms, while the other, the one whose fingers had been so thoroughly sucked and wetted, trailed lightly along his cleft to graze against a puckered hole.

Jim flinched, gasping at the touch, his hole fluttering with eager interest. Spock rubbed and soothed, slipping a single finger into searing heat. He closed his eyes and breathed out in bliss. Jim clenched tight, teasing him. He made a few languid thrusts, reveling in the tightness, before opening him in earnest, pushing and scissoring and pumping first one, then two fingers. The feeling of Jim’s body wrapped around his fingers was decadent; soft and hot and tight. Cascading waves of pleasure coursed up through his sensitive digits and set his neural receptors ablaze.

He contemplated using a third finger but decided against it. He would rather feel the final stretch around his own cock. He pulled free, watching as Jim’s hole gaped slightly and then flexed, almost fluttering back to normal.

“Look at you,” he purred, running his hands up and down tanned skin. “Beautiful.”

Jim whined, pressing back with what little leverage he could manage.

He didn’t bother undressing; he merely freed himself from his boxers again, pushing them down a bit, and clasped tight to Jim’s hips. He lined up, shivering at the heat emanating from Jim’s core, and slowly _pressed_.

Everything about Jim was amazing, but especially this. He continued his praise, little phrases he knew set Jim alight: _always so good for me, taking me so well, so tight around me, always perfect._ He kept going until he was slotted deep inside him, his pelvis against Jim’s own.

However, he had not forgotten Jim’s earlier disobedience. Rules must be followed, and punishment meted out for breaking them.

He bent forward, laying words into his skin as he bit and kissed and sucked marks up one side of his spine and down the other. “You broke the rules, captain, and have yet to suffer the consequences of your actions.” Jim trembled as Spock ground into him. He laved a trail along his marks and murmured, “I believe it is time you do.”

“No. Wait. I – “

Spock quickly lifted away from Jim, leaving only two points of contact; their hips flush against each other and Spock’s length buried deep. He drew back a hand and landed a resounding _smack_ to a perfectly round bottom.

Jim cried out, flinching at the sudden change in sensation. “Oh, fuck.”

Another slap landed firmly on the other buttock, Jim bucking against it. He landed several more in rapid succession, the skin growing red and heated under his palms. His hands tingled and throbbed from it, a small form of torture in itself, though less so than the feeling of Jim’s channel fluttering and squeezing around him in time with each strike.

Breaths already labored, Jim writhed, his entire frame shivering from the sensory input. Spock rubbed and massaged the firm flesh, giving Jim a chance to breathe. “Color?” he asked.

“Green,” Jim panted out. “Definitely fucking green.”

“Mm. Good.” Without hesitating, he resumed the strikes. After landing a dozen more, he stopped. Jim’s restitutions had been adequately paid.

He rewarded Jim with a deep flex of his hips, pulling back and then slowly sinking back in. He repeated it, keeping a measured, torturous pace, and worked them into an inflamed state of need.

Jim, however, had been on the edge too long and was near incoherent, babbling and moaning out in need. “Please, Spock. Please fuck, I can’t – I need more.”

He felt the energy spike along Jim’s skin, his whole body shaking with imminent release. Spock withdrew suddenly, preventing Jim’s orgasm. Jim forcefully conveyed his disapproval with a loud shout.

“Shhhh,” he soothed. “Only for a moment. You do not want to break another rule, do you?”

Jim shook his head, eyes squeezed tight.

“Then breathe deep for me.” He watched as Jim did as he asked, evening out his breaths. He assisted with long strokes up and down his sides and light kisses along his spine, until he could sense that Jim’s body had once again fallen back from the peak. “Excellent.”

He smothered Jim with his weight once again, and bit along his neck to whisper, “Ready for more?”

“ _Please_.”

He ran a hand through Jim’s hair and nipped along his jaw. “So perfect,” he said, as he tightened his fingers, tugging at thick locks to pull Jim’s neck taut while his other hand gripped tight to his hip. He lined up and shoved firmly back inside him. 

“Oh. Oh, _fuck_.”

He snapped his hips, thrusting in long, deep, full strokes. Spock kept a constant pace. By not increasing speed, or changing angles, or shortening his thrusts, it brought them both to a sharpened point and kept them there, never tipping over. Jim began to thrash, his entire body crackling like a live wire searching for a way to expel the built-up charge.

Jim began to beg for release. Spock leaned back, now grasping the firm flesh of Jim’s ass with both hands and threw his hips forward into a single, sharp thrust. Jim’s body bowed as he screamed out in enthusiasm, “Gods, yes. _Harder_.”

Spock let go of his tightly held control, allowing his desire to rush through him, surging along his nerve endings until his body felt consumed with an almost frenzied _need_. He pulled back and thrust deep, angling himself and Jim’s hips so that he firmly assaulted Jim’s prostate, rubbing across it with each drive of his hips. Jim’s channel bore down on him.

“ _More_ ,” Jim breathed, “deeper… _oh_ _fuck.”_ Each word came out in a punched exhale as Spock buried himself to the hilt inside the pliant body beneath him. A mere handful of thrusts later and they were both shaking, their releases fast approaching.

This time, he would not deny them. Spock covered him with his body, one hand coming around Jim’s shoulders to squeeze lightly at his throat, while the other gripped his bound hands tight, and using both points as leverage, he pistoned his hips in a relentless rhythm, giving Jim _harder and deeper_ , until Jim did just as Spock predicted and started screaming his name in time to his thrusts.

“So beautiful,” he gasped. “You have been so very good for me.” Another several thrusts, more rapid than the last. “Tell me what you want.” He used the last shred of his control to growl out, “Beg me.”

Though Jim noises had long become monosyllabic, he cried out, “Please, Spock. Let me come. I need to. _Please_.”

“Show me,” Spock demanded. “Come for me.”

Jim shouted, loud and long, his body tensing as he gave in and let his pleasure take over. Jim grasped him tight as he came, his channel fluttering and clenching with each pulse. Just as Jim started to tremble in oversensitivity, Spock ground himself against Jim, pushing as deep as he could and let his own orgasm take him. Jim moaned as Spock filled him. They both shuddered as the sensations ebbed, dying down from their pinnacle to leave behind a heavy lassitude.

Spock lifted slightly, relieving Jim of some of his weight and received a low whimper of displeasure. He stroked one hand along damp hair and soothed Jim with low, even tones. “I will give you that in a moment, but for now, I must attend to your other pressing needs.” A smaller noise left Jim, this one of resigned acceptance.

After such an intense session, Jim needed firm, constant touch but even he knew other things must come first.

Leaning back, Spock pulled free of Jim in a low hiss, the cool air a shock after being buried so long in Jim’s welcoming heat. He reached forward and untied Jim’s hands. There were likely to be bruises. He would need to use a dermal regenerator, but he would deal with that once Jim fell asleep.

He rubbed along tendons and muscles, massaging his wrist, forearm, and bicep, and ending with a deep rub into his shoulder before doing the same to the other arm. Jim quietly moaned in relief. “I will be right back,” Spock reassured, leaving Jim prone on his desk.

He discarded his clothes in the hamper on the way to their shared bathroom where he cursorily cleaned himself. He grabbed a washcloth, wetting it with warm water and headed back to take care of Jim.

He had not moved. Jim’s eyes were closed, and his breathing had fallen into deep, even draws. He placed a hand softly on Jim’s lower back. “Jim? I’m going to clean you now and then we will move to the bed,” before doing just as he promised. A short, soft whimper spilled from Jim as he wiped him down. He threw the cloth into the hamper and through a bit of maneuvering, got Jim into bed and under the sheets. With a cursory check that everything was satisfactory, he dimmed the lights and climbed into bed with Jim.

He shuffled over to him, leaning slightly forward to bear some of his weight on Jim. A small hum followed a deep sigh on contentment. Spock found himself purring, a deep rumbling in his chest, as Jim fell into a sated sleep, his body and mind quieted. With Jim taken care of, he closed his eyes and drifted into a peaceful, dreamless sleep.


	2. Chapter Two

When his internal time sense woke him the next morning, he found Jim curled against him, sleeping soundly. That, in and of itself, was an infrequent occurrence. Jim’s sleep was often haunted by unpleasant memories. Of what, Spock did not know. However, it seemed their activities from the prior evening had allowed them both a much-needed respite.

Easing himself from his bedmate, he began his morning ablutions, careful to let Jim sleep for as long as possible. He had finished his shower, dressed, and was consuming his breakfast when Jim finally stirred. He took the opportunity to mention, “You have exactly 24.2 minutes until alpha shift begins. You can afford only 4.2 minutes of additional rest before you must arise.” 

An exaggerated, muffled groan came from his left but after 1.8 minutes of tossing and turning, there was a disgruntled huff followed by the soft sounds of bare footfalls. The swish of the bathroom door confirmed Jim had finally begun his day.

Spock logged into his console and saw he had received an answer from Starfleet. He opened the file and clenched his jaw in disappointment. He would not be granted the security level access needed to read the confidential material within the lieutenant’s file. It would remain behind bureaucratic walls.

It appeared the ensign had also been approved. Multiple medical personnel and psychologists had cleared the ensign. The files indicated assurances that the depressive episode was brought on by the death of the ensign’s mother and doubted a recurrence, except perhaps upon the death of the ensign’s father.

Though displeased he did not have neat resolutions, the odds of significant problems had substantially declined. He would relay the information to Jim and be satisfied he performed his duty. He pulled up the original manifest and approved it.

Jim walked back into his quarters, announcing himself with a brisk, “Business,” as the bathroom doors slid shut behind him.

Spock looked up briefly, gave a short nod of acknowledgment and transferred the approved list to his PADD. They could walk and talk about Spock’s findings on the way to the bridge. Picking up the PADD, he gestured to his door. “Shall we, Captain?”

Blue eyes smiled warmly at him. “Of course, Mister Spock.”

As they walked down the hall to the lift, Spock inquired after the incident with Admiral Komack last night.

“Oh, he’s just being an ass. I had a crewmember come to me confidentially about an issue they were having and requested leave. All I wanted was permission to stop at a Starbase already on our way, and Komack denied it. Just pisses me off. It’s always his way or the highway.”

“Is there something I can do to help?”

“No. I’ll deal with it.”

They came to the turbolift and stood waiting for it to arrive on their deck.

While waiting, Spock broached the topic of the new crewmembers. “Before arriving on the bridge, captain, I have received the new recruit list.”

“Ah. Anything to worry about?”

“My search turned up two crewmembers, but they both received final clearance this morning. I have no further misgivings and forwarded it to you for final approval.”

“What are the names of the crewmembers who caused the red flag?”

They paused as the lift arrived and opened. It was empty. Once inside and headed up to the bridge, Spock answered Jim’s question.

“An engineering ensign, Lenore Karidian, and a communications lieutenant, Kevin Riley.”

When several seconds passed and Jim did not respond, Spock glanced up from his PADD to see his captain’s skin ashen white, eyes glazed and distant, and his hand gripping the turbolift handle so tight the tendons strained.

“Captain?” No response. A softer entreaty, “Jim?” 

“How old is Riley?”

“Jim?”

“Just answer the goddamn question,” he snapped. “ _How old_?”

Spock flinched at the outburst as if he had been struck. “Twenty-four, sir.”

Jim made no acknowledgement that he had heard him other than the ticking muscle in his jaw and the rigid set of his body. Though he normally refrained from physical displays on duty, something clawed at him to reach out. But just as he lifted his hand, the lift stopped and opened to the bridge.

Jim blinked, shaking his head. Without looking at Spock, he strode forward, coming to stand in front of the captain’s chair, leaving Spock dazed and confused inside the lift. Spock did not know what to do, so he composed himself and proceeded to his station as if the incident had not occurred. He would not seek answers now, not while they were both on active duty on the bridge as long as whatever had transpired did not affect Jim’s ability to captain the Enterprise and her crew.

As the day wore on, weariness set in. There was a palatable tension on the bridge. Jim had been professional to the utmost degree; cool, calculating, and distant. He was withdrawn and grim, so much so, the entire bridge crew had operated on edge. The loss of his easy comradery was sorely missed.

When alpha shift ended, Jim succinctly updated his shift replacement and left without another word, taking the first available lift and leaving Spock still relaying information to his own replacement.

By the time he made it to deck five and the senior officer quarters, Spock’s worry for Jim deepened, gnawing in his gut. He had never seen him react so. Anger, yes. Brashness, yes. Humor to hide perceived inadequacies or fears, yes. But not this. As he powered through the halls, his concern increased with every step. 

He debated stopping by Doctor McCoy’s office. Perhaps with both of them confronting Jim, they would ascertain the issue more quickly. In another few steps, he dismissed the idea as swiftly as it had appeared. He wanted to get to Jim sooner rather than later, and if Leonard was needed, he would comm him.

He came to the outer door of Jim’s quarters and stopped. Dealing with emotional turmoil, particularly human turmoil, was not one of his strengths. However, he cared deeply for Jim and could not leave him to face whatever had happened alone. He centered himself and pushed the button to announce his presence. He waited. And waited. But no response came. That gnawing feeling in his gut grew, but he would not invade Jim’s space. It would be a violation of his privacy.

Accepting a momentary defeat, he turned to his own quarters next door. He entered, locked the door, and stood in the center of the room, gathering himself to calm. Everything became more clearly defined. The smell of the recycled air, the vibrations of the ship under his feet, and the soft, distinct hum of the shower.

Relief flooded through him. That was why Jim had not answered. He was in the shower. Tension eased from his body, relaxing in the knowledge that Jim had not outright refused him. He went to his desk and sat, pondering his next move. Minutes ticked by. Five, then ten, then twenty. Yet, he still heard the shower running, and a water shower, nonetheless. Jim’s average shower duration was 8.3 minutes, less if it was a sonic shower. This one’s duration was currently at twenty-two minutes. He stood once again, prepared to enter the bathroom and ascertain Jim’s wellbeing, when he heard the water click off. He stopped short, just outside the bathroom door.

He did not know how to proceed. Everything about this day had rattled him. Nothing had functioned normally after the mention of the two new crewmembers. He could hear movement from the other side, quiet and subdued, but otherwise, nothing more. Immobilized by indecision, he remained at the door, debating his next course of action over and over. Eventually, the decision was made for him as he heard the woosh of the bathroom door from Jim’s side.

Stepping forward, he activated his door. The door’s hiss was followed by a blast of heat and humidity that stole his breath. He walked through the heavy fog to Jim’s side. When he got close enough to activate Jim’s door, it did not open.

Brows drew together in concern. Jim had locked it.

Though intrusion was something he tried to avoid, he couldn’t help but call out, hoping to get a reply. “Captain?” Nothing. He tried louder, his hand coming to rest upon the door. “Jim?”

When several more moments passed and there was still no response, he reluctantly turned away. He would give him time and space and hope that Jim could confide in him soon. In the meantime, he required meditation. The turmoil of the day had worn his shields thin.

Once finished with his meditation and his nightly ablutions completed, Spock lay in his bed, reflecting on the day. It was a long time before his eyes finally closed and his mind gave into a much-needed rest. Unfortunately, rest, at least restorative rest, was not to be found. 

The next week proceeded to be stress-filled and unlike any he had endured since the destruction of Vulcan-That-Was. There were no calamities or outside forces fixated on destruction. It was all constant, internal upheaval.

Jim had remained distant, pushing him away or ignoring him. It was as if a shell of his captain and lover walked the halls of the Enterprise. The effervescence that had always exuded from Jim, that had reminded Spock of the sunniest days on Vulcan-That-Was, was dampened to such a degree as to be non-existent.

He was not the only one who noticed the marked difference. Morale among the crew dropped, reflected by a sudden drop in their efficiency ratings.

He had made several attempts to engage Jim, to no avail. No matter what he tried, Jim thwarted him, remaining aloof. The withdrawal only worsened after the trip to Starbase 2, where they exchanged old and new crewmembers, and Kevin Riley officially became a member of the crew.

The final blow had come yesterday, when Jim had been called off the bridge for an urgent personal communication. He had not returned to the bridge and Spock feared what would come of adding another difficulty to Jim’s darkening mental and emotional state.

Unfortunately, tonight would find Jim no better off. The Winter Celebrations party commenced tonight at 1900 hours in the recreation room. For most, it was a time of festive revelry among the crew. Though Spock did not particularly care for the overly rambunctious event, it did bring the crew together and boost morale.

However, Jim had never liked attending the event. In fact, he would posit to say that Jim detested it. Why he had an aversion to it, he did not know. Coupled with the last week’s additional stress, Spock was unsure as to what he would discover as he made his way to the party.

The doors opened, and he winced against the music, laughter, and merriment that flooded his senses. He nodded politely to several crewmembers as he passed, scanning the room for Jim. He spotted him near the drink station and slowly made his way there.

As he approached Jim, Spock observed a blond female with him that seemed intent on touching Jim with every smile and laugh she made. Was she attempting to flirt with him? His steps grew bolder. He growled low in his chest; a flare of jealousy and possessiveness blossoming inside him. His steps faltered, momentarily shocked by the intensity.

He could see Jim’s lips move, saying something that immediately made the young woman throw her head back and laugh. The sound stabbed at him, like repeated pinpricks into his psyche. He watched as the young woman touched him again, continuing her pursuit. His jealousy seethed at the interplay between them.

When he finally reached them, he came to a stop beside Jim in a stiff parade rest. They had not spent much time with each other since that morning in the turbolift, and Spock felt himself itching to reach out and touch. He clasped his hands harder behind him to refrain from such an unbecoming display.

His greeting was, perhaps, a bit more forceful than he meant it to be. “Good evening, captain.”

Jim’s eyes narrowed but gave nothing else away. “Mister Spock.”

The young crewmember turned to him and smiled coyly. “Why, Mister Spock, I’ve heard so much about you. You are a bit of a celebrity, a legend even, in certain circles.”

It took a long moment, but Spock recognized her. “Ms. Karidian. I trust your brief time on the Enterprise has, thus far, been productive.”

She smiled wider, her eyes twinkling. “Oh, most assuredly. I have found so many things here I long to delve further into.” She turned, frankly and openly assessing Jim.

Jim took a drink, choking a bit on the liquid. He cleared his throat with a deliberate cough. “Glad to have you aboard, ensign.”

Spock bristled at her blatant arrogance and overt attention to Jim, along with Jim’s apparent blasé attitude. His hands clenched tighter behind his back. “Ambition is to be commended ensign, though I caution restraint before – how does the saying go? – ah yes, ‘biting off more than you can chew.’” A bare twitch of his head and a raised brow conveyed his disdain at the ensign’s brazen attempts at seduction.

A brief emotion flickered across her face before she turned back to Jim, voice low and enticing. “I can’t wait to get to know you better, sir. I look forward to working under you.” She left then, but not before gracing Spock with a self-satisfied smirk. It was deeply unsettling.

Once she was far enough away, Spock immediately turned his attention to Jim and began with, “Captain, I must caution you. Ms. Karidian seems – “

“I know what flirting looks like, Spock.” He rolled his eyes. “It’s not the first time it’s happened. Won’t be the last.” Jim shrugged, “I don’t have time to be offended by everyone who finds me attractive.”

“I –” Spock stuttered, taken aback. “This happens often?”

Jim shrugged again, taking another drink. 

Everything came crashing down on him at once. Spock felt lost, unanchored. Time ticked away, neither of them speaking, until the silence grew awkward and unwieldy.

“I hate these things,” Jim sulked with a heavy, discontented sigh. “Why do I even have to be here?” He swallowed down another gulp of his drink. It was no doubt alcoholic in nature.

“As captain, it is – “

“My duty. Yeah, I know.” He took another rather large swallow. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

They were close, so physically close, and yet Jim had not even turned to properly acknowledge him. The need to reach out, that pervasive itch under his skin, grew.

Though it had been nine months since they had begun a relationship – a momentous evening back on Yorktown while they awaited the Enterprise’s rebuild – Spock had always maintained a very disciplined approach to displays of affection while on duty, or at duty-related functions. But something kept pulling at him. He was worried about Jim. A week of rejection and distance, of watching Jim from afar had made him desperate. And bold.

Slowly, he closed the distance between them, brushing their shoulders together while his fingers grazed the outside of Jim’s hand in the barest of touches. “Jim? What is wrong? Let –”

His next words were never uttered, swallowed down in a sharp gasp as he was bombarded by an onslaught he was not prepared for. He sucked in a breath, fortifying his shields against the force of Jim’s emotions, and pulled back, but it was too late. He had heard Jim internally screaming; a whirlwind of hurt and regret and pain.

Jim’s eyes widen in shock, staggering away from Spock. “Did you just – “

“I did not mean – it was an accident,” he fumbled. In a hushed tone he asked, “Jim, are you well?”

“Well?” he hissed. Jim stepped back further as if Spock’s nearness repulsed him. “Well?” he repeated, his voice loud and furious. “No, I’m not.” He downed the rest of his drink, slammed it on the table behind him, and strode out of the rec room without a backwards glance.

Spock stood there, dumbfounded, his mouth slightly agape. He was lost, unsure of himself and his next course of action. He knew that Jim had not been himself, but the pain he had felt...it was crushing. How could Jim be standing under the enormity of its weight?

He was where Jim had left him, shocked and immobile, when Doctor McCoy strode to him with anger radiating off his very frame.

“What in the hell did you do, Spock?”

He did not know what else to do, so he confessed. “I read his emotions without consent.”

“You what?!” McCoy spluttered.

“Jim has not been himself the past week and became further agitated tonight. More so than normal for this time of year and I…” He trailed off, his worry for Jim growing in his chest. “To provide comfort, I grazed his hand with my own.” Spock lowered his eyes, the shame of his conduct overwhelming him. “But I was unprepared for the bombardment of his emotions and they leaked through. He then departed.”

McCoy’s anger marginally deflated. “So, it was an accident then?”

Spock looked up. “Yes, but I – “

“Look, you need to explain what happened and make sure Jim understands. And now.”

“I would do so, but Jim has closed himself off from me. Things are _different_. I am at a loss.” Spock’s eyes once again fell to the floor. “I am no longer sure that I am what he wants. Or needs.”

It was difficult to discern over all the noise, but he thought he heard the doctor grumble something similar to, “I swear to all the gods, you two will be the death of me,” before McCoy let loose an exasperated sigh. “Now you listen to me, ya hear?”

Spock looked up at Leonard, whose eyes were warm with sympathy, despite his often-gruff demeanor.

“Jim needs you right now. Only he’s too much of a damn stubborn ass to admit it,” he groused, “just like someone else I know. He’s terrible at askin’ for what he wants, much less what he actually needs.” The doctor pursed his lips, head shaking in frustration. “Sometimes with Jim, you back off and let him sort it out. But this ain’t one of those times. I can’t say why, but just know he’s hurtin’, bad. So be gentle,” he warned, finger wagging at him. “And don’t let Jim push you away. He’s good at that.” Then he waved his hands, shooing him away. “Now, get. I’ll hold things down in here.”

“Thank you, Leonard.” Spock straightened his spine and spun purposefully on his heel. He would make things right with Jim and in the process, hopefully find out the reason for Jim’s internal pain and heal the chasm that had grown between them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading.
> 
> Comments and kudos are always appreciated.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek, nor am I profiting from this in any way. I am merely playing with the characters for enjoyment's sake.


	3. Chapter Three

Making an educated guess, Spock headed straight for Jim’s quarters. It was where he had taken to withdrawing during the last week. He stood at the door, filled with trepidation. But with Leonard’s words echoing in his mind, he resolutely pushed the button to request entry and waited.

It did not open.

Spock glanced left and then right. The halls were empty with most of the crew enjoying the party. He did not know what else to do, so he spoke to the door, loud enough he hoped Jim would hear.

“I apologize for earlier. I did not mean to invade your privacy.” He sighed, his heart thudding in his side. “I am concerned about you.” He sensed nothing. Perhaps it was already too late to mend what was broken. “Please, Jim. Let me in?”

He stood for several more moments, and though McCoy had cautioned him to not give up, if Jim would not allow him entry, he would not invade Jim’s space. He took a step back, resigning himself to further failure, when the door swooshed open.

Startled, he quickly stepped inside, anxious that Jim might change his mind. He focused on the one being he had been bereft of for the last seven days.

Jim sat at his desk, pensive and subdued. Red-rimmed blue eyes held his in an unwavering gaze.

He immediately began with his apology. “Jim, I apologize. I – “

Jim abruptly held up his hand. “Stop. Just stop there.” Lowering his hand, he said, “I know it was an accident. I also know that I have handled things…poorly lately.” He barked out a laugh, full of self-deprecation. “That’s an understatement, huh? Fuck. I am sorry, Spock. I’ve been such an asshole.”

Spock took a step forward, relief flooding through him. “Apparently we are both tenacious in refusing to acknowledge our needs or ask for them. At least so says our CMO.” An eyebrow lifted to emphasize the next words. “Though the direct quote was ‘a damn stubborn ass.’”

“Of course that’s what Bones said,” Jim laughed. The sound of it filled the room with warmth, like bright sunshine on a cool autumn day.

However, the mutual mirth was short-lived. There were serious issues to still address. “I would like to repair our relationship and to help you in whatever way you need of me. Please, let me help.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I can do that.” Jim rubbed his hands along his thighs, back and forth, rucking the fabric of his pants. “You asked what was wrong back there. Memories. That’s what’s wrong.” Jim fidgeted, then stood abruptly, pacing back and forth in the small space beside his desk. “I’m sure you remember the morning you mentioned the new crew manifest. The one with two potential problems?”

“Vividly. I have tried to decipher an explanation for your response to Lieutenant Riley but could not find a connection.”

“I bet you did. Well, good to know that some things stay classified,” Jim mumbled. He stopped pacing, and when their eyes connected, Jim seemed lifetimes older than his mere thirty-two years.

“That young lieutenant, Kevin Riley?” Jim sighed, the weight of the world seeming to bear upon his shoulders. “He and I…we…,” Jim deflated, crossing his arms protectively across his body. “We were on Tarsus together.”

Spock sucked in a breath. Tarsus. The mere word had bile rising in his throat. It was a tragedy of epic proportions. A colony whose food source became infected with an exotic fungus right before the autumn harvest. Faced with a soon dwindling food supply, Kodos, the governor of the colony, implemented a radical solution to the upcoming shortage. Of the eight thousand total colonists, four thousand were chosen, culled out based upon Kodos’ own personal eugenics beliefs, and slaughtered.

There were rumors only a small handful survived the massacre, most of them children. Their records had been sealed for protection; the horror of what they survived buried behind an impenetrable, classified wall. Of all the people in the galaxy it could have been, two were now assigned to the Enterprise. The odds were infinitesimal.

“You are part of The Nine.” It was obvious, but Spock stated it out loud, nonetheless.

“Yeah. I’ve tried so hard to leave that behind. But seeing his name…” Jim hands absently stroked along his biceps, as if trying to ward off a bitter cold.

“It was a trigger; a reminder of what happened.”

“Eighteen years. It was eighteen years ago, and it hit me like it was yesterday.” He raked a hand through his hair and blew out a breath. “And before I could even wrap my mind around it? He was on board and I didn’t…still don’t know about _seeing_ him or accidentally running into him walking down a corridor?”

Jim became more restless, his body pacing while his mind spun. “And then Tom comm’d me that night. Several times over the last few days. Tom was there with us, too. Said he needed my help. Said he found something out about back then. But I couldn’t. So, I avoided him too. And then I couldn’t stop thinking about all the others; Eric and Dor’oth and Abagail and Juri and Synos and Kin’e. It felt like I was being suffocated. And now?” Jim stopped his pacing and stared, his eyes brimming with unshed tears. “He’s dead. That comm on the bridge I got yesterday? That was the notification that Tom was dead.” A single tear escaped. “I failed him,” Jim whispered, “and pushed you away, too. I’m sorry I took it all out on you.”

Though it had been distressing, he intimately understood withdrawal as a defense mechanism. Spock moved forward slowly, until he was close enough to reach out and touch, but he did not. He refrained, especially with the incident in the recreation room so fresh in his memory. “I apologize as well. I did not mean to upset you further by reading your emotions. I thought only to comfort you and managed the opposite.” 

Jim shook his head fervently. “It wasn’t all you. I was…am…overwhelmed.”

Spock could refrain no longer, he ached to feel him. “May I touch you now?” His was voice rough and full of need. “Comfort you?”

Jim dropped his arms, eyes piercing his own. “Please,” he begged.

Fortifying his shields, Spock reached out, hands mirroring each other as he took his fingers and starting in the center of Jim’s forehead, traced out along his brow, down his temples to the sharp edge of his jaw. From there, they pushed back to the base of his skull until his hands cupped Jim’s neck. His thumbs extended, running back and forth across his jawline.

Spock leaned forward until their foreheads rested gently against one another. “I grieve with thee.”

Jim’s breath hitched. He grabbed a hold of Spock, crushing the fabric of his shirt in his hands. He felt the full-body quiver of Jim’s body against his and an increasing pressure against his shields. 

He drew back, intending to ask after Jim’s wellbeing, but was caught in an unexpected kiss; fervent, desperate, and needy. He suddenly found his arms full of a ravenous Jim. After a week without his touch, Spock’s body and mind exploded in sensation; the half-starved embers swiftly rekindling into a raging fire.

Spock was caught, ignited by the heat, consumed by it, as was Jim. He tore off Spock’s shirt and his own before crushing their mouths and bodies back together. It was frantic and startling and demanding. Jim led them to the bed, undoing Spock’s pants along the way.

“These off. Now.”

Spock fumbled them off, along with the rest of his clothes, while Jim tore off his own clothes into a tangled heap on the floor. Jim grabbed his waist, pulling him forward between his legs, opened wide in invitation. “Fuck me.”

A fleeting thought warned that perhaps this was ill-advised, before Spock promptly discarded it as Jim moaned out a low, “Please.”

He crawled between his legs and proceeded to take Jim apart in all the ways he knew how. However, Jim was impatient. He had barely gotten two fingers inside him, when Jim rasped, “Now, Spock. I want you inside me.” He leaned up to kiss Spock, biting down on his lower lip, as Spock hissed with the sharp pain. “Make me feel it.”

Spock found himself eagerly obliging. He entered Jim in one long, slow, solid thrust. Jim’s body arched as he was breached, his channel squeezed tight around Spock. He paused, waiting for Jim to adjust, but Jim grabbed his shoulders, digging in with fingers and nails, and growled out, “Move.”

He could not resist and again obliged. Their bodies collided, wild and frenzied. Writhing beneath him, Jim was tempestuous as a hurricane, sweeping Spock along with him in the maelstrom of his need. The force of their joining was swift and all-encompassing, driving them higher and higher until at last they peaked, violent in their releases. Jim cried out, his untouched cock twitching and pulsing, and Spock, holding Jim’s hips in a bruising grip, pressed flush and tight and deep, shuddered his own release. They collapsed; breaths ragged, bodies loose and languid.

Once the quaking of their bodies subsided, Spock withdrew. Jim whimpered at the loss. Spock slumped down beside him, unable to speak.

Jim drew close, throwing an arm over his chest and a leg over one of his own and snuggled close. “Mmm…stay,” he breathed.

Ever the dutiful servant to logic, Spock could not resist mentioning, “We should clean ourselves before falling asleep.”

A barely audible, “later,” and a contented sigh was all Spock heard before Jim’s breathing evened out and his limbs grew heavy. Within moments, Jim had fallen asleep.

Spock could not seem to do the same. Though he had enjoyed their coupling and reconnection, in the quiet aftermath of their intimacy, he once again felt unbalanced. The rapid whiplash of emotions and actions in their relationship left him unable to find equilibrium. Over and over again, he examined all the facts until at last, with no further answers forthcoming, he fell into a light sleep.

Hours later, he awoke startled and disoriented. It took mere moments to identify the source.

Jim thrashed beside him, arms and legs flailing about as he cried out in pain. There was no mistaking the wail of that sound. Spock panicked. Dodging Jim’s flailing limbs as much as possible, he grabbed his shoulders and shook him. “Jim!” Even Spock could hear the rattle of fear in his voice.

But Jim did not wake. Whatever nightmare consumed his mind, it was violent and unrelenting.

In hindsight, his next decision was not the most well-advised. However, the physical, mental, and emotional exhaustion of the prior week, combined with tonight’s revelations, intimacy, and interrupted sleep all combined to create a perfect storm.

Spock could only think of one option to help Jim.

He straddled Jim, pinning down his arms, and laid his fingers along Jim’s psi points. He could pull him out of the nightmare and drag him up to consciousness; protect him from whatever ghosts haunted him. Unfortunately, he miscalculated his fatigue and the strength of his shields.

As soon as their minds touched, Spock was caught in the turbulent vortex of Jim’s nightmare. Though he caught no clear images, Jim’s feelings came through with crystal clarity; pain upon searing pain, defiance, anger, and infinite sadness, all encapsulated in the smothering blanket of fear. He yanked at Jim’s conscious self, attempting to soothe and placate as he did so.

But in the moment they recognized each other through the chaos, in the moment Jim found comfort in Spock’s presence, in the moment Spock enveloped Jim in his strength, their minds connected on a primal level. Caught off guard, Spock shields fully collapsed. His mind reveled in the sensation of touching, of being joined, of being _known_.

A thunderous snap sounded within his mind and then he knew. A bond had formed. 

Shame and disbelief swept through him. Spock forcefully severed the meld, crying out as he came to. Trembling, he gazed into blue eyes. The shock and anger in them was unmistakable.

“What have you done?”

“I was only,” he stuttered. “I was attempting to help you – “

Jim’s whole body shivered beneath him, but this was distinctly different than the shivers he had drawn from him but hours before. He could taste the fear and revulsion in his thoughts. “Are you…in my mind?”

“Yes,” he confessed. “We are bonded.” He quickly stumbled over the next words. “I did not know. It was an accident.”

“Another one?” Jim bit out. Jim bucked underneath Spock’s, anger flaring. “Get off of me.”

Spock moved, scrambling off the bed to stand beside it. He lifted his hands in supplication, trying to make Jim understand. “You were in pain and would not wake. I thought – “

“You went into my mind, _again_ , without my permission? And now we’re bonded? What the fuck, Spock?”

“I did not know that it could happen. It could only occur if we were extremely compatible, mentally and physically. It is highly unusual that _katras_ would bind together so readily. I misjudged – “

“Misjudged? MISJUDGED?” Heaving in gulps of air, Jim ground out his next words in a low, clipped tone. “Get out.”

“Jim,” Spock floundered, “please – “

“Get. Out.”

His world was crumbling, falling apart again and as an additional insult, he could feel Jim’s righteous anger and bitter loathing pulsing across the bond. He could not bear the condemnation, so he shuttered the bond, blocking it off at both ends.

Spock haphazardly donned his boxers and pants, grabbed the rest of his things, and headed to his quarters through their shared bathroom. Once there, he collapsed, falling to his knees; the weight of everything bearing down upon him.

He lost all sense of time. He could not gauge how long he spent on his knees reeling from it all, and when his mind and body could take no more, he fell into a numb, trance-like state. Eventually, his chin dropped to his chest and he fell into the blankness of sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Comments and kudos are always appreciated.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek, nor am I profiting from this in any way. I am merely playing with the characters for enjoyment's sake


	4. Chapter Four

Today, at least, was different. Today Spock had received a communication from Jim, summoning him to a meeting at 1500 hours. Unease crept inside him, roiling and nauseating, but it was past time to discuss what had happened.

Six days seemed never-ending when every day brought more pain to his mind. It yearned, profoundly and deeply, for the bond to be opened and consummated, but he kept the bond shuttered, stunted by the block. He had spent countless hours meditating but could not relieve the pain or the longing from his mind, so instead, he occupied himself with his duties.

Given what had transpired, he had removed himself from the duty roster for alpha shift. It was the least he could do. Jim would not have to interact with him, and it would spare them and anyone else from the awkwardness of their interactions. Jim had immediately approved it, remotely of course, as they were both avoiding each other. That is, until today.

When the meeting time arrived, he stood before the conference room door and breathed. Whatever happened next, he would deserve it. He had violated his captain, his friend, his lover. More than once. He straightened his spine and pressed the door chime. One second, two, then three, before getting a brusque, “Enter.”

The door opened. Spock took two steps in and stopped. He should have known. It was not just Jim, but Doctor McCoy too. He straightened further, fingers twitching in the smallest indication of stress. The doctor appeared grim and uncomfortable, and Jim exuded a cold detachment that even Spock would have once admired; one he wished he currently possessed.

“Can the bond be removed?”

Spock blinked. The direct, to-the-point question, bereft of any other acknowledgement, threw him. He answered honestly, though it distressed him to contemplate it. “Yes.” The pain in his mind grew. Severing bonds was no trivial affair. But his desire, his pain did not matter. Jim had not consented to be bonded and did not want to be.

“Good.” Tension eased from Jim’s body and he nodded imperceptibly. “We have orders to attend a diplomatic function on Camus II. Once that is done, I have gotten approval for shore leave for the entire crew on Starbase 11. At that point, we will get this taken care of.”

Jim was well within his rights to demand such a thing. Spock’s violation of his mind left Spock with little choice but to agree, regardless of how his mind wanted to reach out and touch Jim’s.

“And in case it wasn’t clear,” he said, fingers flexing at his side, “you’ve crossed boundaries and I can’t –” Jim fell silent, having difficulty with the next words. McCoy reached out, laying a gentle hand on his arm. “Our personal relationship is over.”

Spock also expected this, had arrived at the same logical conclusion, but it still felt like a phaser blast burning through his side. “Understood.”

“Good. You’re dismissed.”

Spock briefly glanced at McCoy, then lingered on Jim’s face. “I am sorry.” He waited a few rapid beats of his heart, then accepted the dismissal with a soft, “captain,” and turned and walked out.

Agony could only describe the next ten days. Spock’s insides reeled, constantly in flux, and to add to the discordant noise, he became fixated on Jim’s appearance and location.

They were still on separate shifts. Spock had taken to working the delta shift and when not on the bridge, spent untold hours in the labs. Unfortunately, delta shift came with a particular torment. His evening shift start meant he broke his fast for his day when the alpha shift was enjoying dinner.

Though he enjoyed seeing the rest of the senior crew, there was a stiltedness to their interactions. Of course, the principal source of his torment was Jim. It was readily apparent that he and Jim were no longer in a relationship – gossip was unavoidable aboard a starship with so many beings in close proximity – and it appeared, particularly in the cafeteria, that Jim was taking admirers. One grated upon his mind more than any other: Lenore Karidian.

It seemed Jim had taken a liking to her company, whether genuine or to spite Spock’s warning against her weeks prior, he could not tell. After a few days of watching their interactions in the cafeteria, he began eating his meal before delta shift in his quarters.

The jealousy and despair that bristled at her attention to Jim, Spock attributed to the unconsummated bond. Surely, it was coloring his mind and interactions. Jim had ended their relationship. It was illogical to continue to feel this way about someone with whom there was nothing left to have. Perhaps removing the bond would be less painful. Perhaps, once it was severed, they could return to the command team they had once been.

Within the same week, the diplomatic mission on Camus II came and went without incident, a rarity in and of itself. Upon its completion, the Enterprise and her crew departed for the two-day journey to Starbase 11 where they would commence shore leave. Jim had also sent him a personal communication dictating a time and place for them to meet once they docked.

As they drew closer to their destination, his apprehension grew. Spock’s internal time sense felt each click of each moment bring him closer to the severance of the bond. An illogical part of him wanted to stall, to stave off the inevitable and try to dissuade Jim.

Jim was angry. Rightfully so. Spock had twice violated his mind. Spock had received a second chance and promptly squandered it. The universe rarely gave another. Though he ached to refuse, he would do as Jim wanted. 

In the early morning hours after his last delta shift, during the meditation he had stayed immersed in because he was unable to sleep, Spock had a startling, ill-timed revelation. In his attempt to quell all the pain and discomfort since that night in Jim’s quarters, his katra finally revealed its deepest truth mere hours before their arrival at Starbase 11.

He was in love with Jim.

As he staggered under the enormity of it, the true breath of his affection overwhelmed him. Not only did he love Jim, but he desired him for his mate and life partner. Searching deeper, he recognized his love for Jim began long before their private relationship had started. All this time had he been reaching subconsciously for him? Had it played a role in his lapses in control?

In the wake of the realization, the pain of losing Jim and sting of his rejection compounded. It did not matter what he felt. Whatever might have been, could no longer be. The bond would be severed, and they would forever be separated by the mistakes he had made.

He came out of meditation weighed down by a soul-deep exhaustion and grief. Everything felt sluggish. He glanced at the chronometer and immediately panicked. His meditation had lasted far longer than he thought. He was going to be late.

He quickly threw on civilian clothing, leaving behind his bags – they could be beamed to him later before their departure to Vulcan – and left his quarters headed to the transporter room.

His mind, however, remained singularly focused on Jim and its recent revelations, and his body operated on automatic pilot. Perhaps it was merely a coincidence, or more likely an indication of his mental state, when instead of arriving at the transporter room, he had unerringly wandered to Doctor McCoy’s office. He stood outside contemplating. Before he could make the conscious decision to leave or announce his presence, the door opened.

“Holy hell, Spock. You startled me.”

Spock froze. Did he talk to McCoy or walk away?

The doctor’s eyes squinted, and a hand rose to his hip. “What are you doing standin’ outside my office?”

“I do not know,” he said. It was the only truthful answer he had to give.

The hand dropped and McCoy stared at him again. “I have a feelin’ I know what ails you.” He sighed and backed away from the door, gesturing with his hand. “Come on in.”

Spock hesitated only a moment but accepted the offer.

“Have a seat.” McCoy sat behind his desk, while Spock took one of the chairs in front of it.

He clasped his hands firmly together in his lap and waited. Doctor McCoy waited as well, perhaps hoping Spock would begin the conversation. Then they would keep waiting. Spock did not know where to begin, much less what to discuss. It was all so…complicated.

“Well I don’t have all day, and neither do you. Aren’t you supposed to be meetin’ Jim about now?”

“Yes.”

“Uh huh.” McCoy pinched the bridge of his nose and then asked, “You gonna back out on your deal?”

“No.”

The doctor looked at him, annoyance clearly written across his features. “Am I gonna get more than one-word answers to my questions?”

Spock could not resist the “perhaps” that fell from his lips. This banter between them was easy and known and comforting.

McCoy rolled his eyes, but a small smile crept onto his face. “Smartass.” But as quick as it had appeared, it faded, and the seriousness returned. “Let’s just cut to the chase then, because you’re both pretty damn miserable and am but one man who can only deal with so much. Most important question to answer is: Are you in love with him?”

“Yes.” There was no hesitation. 

Leonard sat back in his chair. “I suspected as much, though had my doubts about you ever admittin’ it.”

Spock found himself blurting out, “I desire to make him my partner, my mate. But he…compromises me.”

“Well that’s one way to put it.” Leonard sat forward again in his chair. “And I assume you don’t want to go through with breakin’ the bond you have. Am I right?”

Here Spock faltered, but in the end, went with the earnestness of all that was inside him. “I do not want it broken. My mind, my _katra,_ wants him as no other, as does everything that I am. But I will do what Jim needs, no matter my feelings. I have betrayed his trust. It will be my penance. It must be.”

McCoy ran a hand down his face. “Y’all really should learn another form of communication other than self-sacrifice or self-flagellation.” He sighed. “Jim’s angry and hurt. But what if part of Jim’s thinkin’ is that there’s no other choice but to break the bond because he doesn’t think the choice, his choice, to be with you exists. At least not a choice that didn’t happen by accident or isn’t somehow bein’ influenced by the bond.”

The shock of McCoy’s implications set him alight with hope. Could there still be a chance? Could Jim be willing to try again? If he proclaimed himself and his intentions?

Leonard must have noticed the change for he continued with, “I can’t say he’d say yes for sure, but he doesn’t want anyone tied to him by accident or out of obligation. So understand, you’d have a _lot_ of convincin’ to do. But,” he sighed, “neither of you have been the same, all mopin’ about and pinin’ for somethin’ you think is outta reach but wouldn’t be if y’all would learn a healthy form of communication and talk like goddamn well-adjusted adults.”

“But I violated his mind – “

“And that,” McCoy pointed at him, “is a hard thing to forget. But if you’re serious, yeah, regainin’ his trust will be hard, but not impossible. And I figure you’ve done a fair amount of thinkin’ about that, too. Why _did_ it happen, Spock?”

Spock’s eyes fell to his lap and the tightly clasped hands within it. “I cannot say for certain,” he murmured, “but I did not consciously realize how I felt about him until this morning. Both times it happened, I longed to comfort him with such intensity, to ease whatever pain he was experiencing, that I subconsciously reached too far. I have touched others and nothing transpired as it did with Jim. Not even with Nyota,” he confessed. “This bond should not have happened. As I said to Jim that night, minds cannot normally be bound so easily. I did not know it could happen.”

“Any theories on why it was so easy for you two?”

“My shields were wholly insufficient against Jim’s inner turmoil. His mind and emotions are stronger than I anticipated and –“ Spock stopped. Admitting the next fact would mean no going back.

“And what, Spock?” Leonard prodded. “You don’t have the luxury of holdin’ back now. And I’m not the only one you have to convince if you want to ever have a relationship with Jim.”

Spock looked up and stared into caring, gentle eyes. “He is my equal, my balance, my match. We are compatible in ways I thought never to have. Our minds are like twining galaxies falling into each other. I am easily pulled into his gravity well. Because I never thought it possible, I failed to sufficiently prepare for the possibility.”

Leonard sat back and sighed again. “Look. I know you didn’t mean for it to happen. And so does Jim. But Jim is stubborn and private, much like a certain Vulcan I know. That…invasion, for lack of a better word, put him on edge. But you can talk him back from it, you just gotta be open and honest. Don’t hold back. You do, and you’ll lose him for good. He may not do an about face on the whole thing right then and there, but I think he’ll come around. Eventually.”

“I will endeavor to do as you say.”

“Good. Now, you better get your ass movin’,” he grumbled. “You’re already late.”

Spock glanced at the chronometer and panicked further. He was now very late.

“Go. I’ll comm Jim and tell him I had to confer with you about somethin’ and I held you up.”

“Thank you, Leonard.”

“Yeah, yeah. Now get.”

Spock ran. He would tell Jim everything and hold tight to the possibility that they could be together. 

Entering the transporter room, he barked out his destination and practically leapt onto the transporter pad. Hope blossomed, bolstered by his talk with Leonard. As his atoms broke apart, his only thoughts were of Jim.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Comments and kudos are always appreciated.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek, nor am I profiting from this in any way. I am merely playing with the characters for enjoyment's sake


	5. Chapter Five

Jim sat in the corner booth waiting for Spock, finishing off another drink. Perhaps he shouldn’t be drinking, but he was already dreading this whole thing. Spending several days without escape in the presence of his first officer, the person he thought he’d been falling in love with, was not his idea of a good time. It was definitely going to be the worst shore leave ever.

Irritated with the turn his thoughts had taken, he scrolled through the menu at the table and ordered something a little stronger. At least if he was tipsy, maybe even just a little bit drunk, he wouldn’t care to examine how his life was falling apart.

He glanced at the chronometer above the bar. Spock should be here. Spock was at least several minutes early to every meeting. Running this close to time wasn’t like him. If he was backing out, when he’d been the one to mess this whole thing up in the first place, Jim was going to be livid. 

“Penny for your thoughts, captain?”

Startled, he looked up, only to see ensign Karidian standing there with two drinks in her hand. He internally sighed. He had, apparently, given her the wrong impression. He hadn’t dissuaded her from flirting and now he was paying for it. It seemed like everywhere he went, the ensign was close by. 

In fact, she would’ve had to have followed him to even know he was here. He heaved another internal sigh. Truth be told, he’d only entertained her nonsense to poke at Spock a little. Petty maybe, but he’d been mad. Still was actually. He’d have to let her down gently. At least he’d had lots of practice with that.

“Ah, ensign. Imagine meeting you here.” Jim forced a smile, his eyes sharp. “It’s almost as if you followed me.” He paused, waiting a beat to see what her reaction would be.

She blushed, coy and embarrassed. “What would you say if I had? Hypothetically, of course,” she demurred.

“I’d say that you’re going about this the wrong way, and that as flattered as I am, I am not the person for you.” Before she could protest, he continued, “I am ‘off the market,’ so to speak.”

She pondered that for a moment, then gave a little pout. “What a pity. We could’ve had some fun.”

Jim made no response and thankfully, his drink arrived to spare him.

Lenore glanced at the drink and grimaced. “I’ll make a bargain with you, captain. You hold off on that sludge and have a drink with me. Then I leave, no worries or hard feelings, promising I understood your message loud and clear.” She sat down in the booth, scooting the drink across to Jim. “A simple drink between coworkers and then I’ll be on my way? Plus, one shouldn’t drink alone.”

Though he still felt a bit apprehensive, the ensign seemed genuine enough and one drink couldn’t hurt. He’d been planning on another anyway. A little show of goodwill, especially since he’d already given his rejection of her interest, might go a long way in diplomacy later.

With a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, he grabbed the glass, eyeing the dark blue-purple of the liquid inside. “What’s in it?”

“It’s a concoction of my own. I jokingly call it my witch’s brew. It’s just a few different liquors and flavorings thrown together to make the perfect drink.” She took a sip of her own. “Not too sweet, balanced, with a nice little punch. And it’s a whole lot better than that,” she gestured, grimacing again as she eyed what he’d ordered.

Jim held up his glass in a small toast and took a tentative sip. His eyebrows rose as the flavor burst across his palate. She wasn’t kidding. It was a damn good drink. He smiled again, and this time, it was genuine. “It’s very good.”

Her eyes brightened, pleased at the compliment. “Thanks.” She sat back a bit in the booth, languidly swirling her drink. “So captain, what has you sitting here all alone for shore leave?”

He took a bigger sip of the drink now that he knew it tasted good. “Just waiting for someone.” He did not want to go anywhere near the mess of his personal life, so he steered the conversation back to her. “What are your plans for leave? Anything fun?”

“Oh, I’m going to see some family and then spend the rest of the time finishing a personal project I’ve been working on for a while.”

“Sounds productive.”

“I do hope so.”

He offered nothing else. Small talk really wasn’t his thing. He took another sip of the concoction, though this time, it left a slight salty aftertaste on his tongue. Hm. That was odd. He should probably stop drinking after this glass. He didn’t want to be fall-down drunk, only in a pleasantly buzzed devil-may-care state. His own way of coping with Spock and the whole Vulcan bond thing.

He fidgeted. Long silences weren’t his thing either and Lenore didn’t seem to be her usual talkative self. He tilted his head, brow scrunched. In fact, she seemed rather intensely focused. She must really be looking forward to whatever shore leave plans she had. He took another long sip. Refocusing on his temporary companion, he asked, “How are you enjoying your work on the Enterprise?”

“Oh, it’s been very eye-opening; such a big ship,” – she leaned forward a bit, smiling – “all that power surging and throbbing, yet under control. It’s rather impressive to witness. Much like yourself, I’d wager.”

His brows drew together at that. Was she flirting again? He lifted the glass again, another swallow down, and though he wanted to reply, his mind felt sluggish; his thoughts whirled round and round, but he was unable to focus on them long enough to speak them aloud. Puzzling his sudden problem, he took another sip, surprised to see the contents more than half gone already. He felt abruptly…relaxed.

“I’m curious, captain. What’s your favorite part of space? Is it the adventure? The freedom? The beauty?”

His head jerked up to stare at Lenore and he had to concentrate on making his mind and mouth work together. “All of it? It’s the journey itself; feels like home,” he softly hummed. He felt himself smile with child-like fondness, his heart full of warmth for his chosen home. “But mostly, it’s the stars.”

Lenore smiled. “Star light, star bright. I wish I may, I wish I might. Do you remember that, captain?”

“Hmmm,” he nodded, though it felt like his head was swimming, “it’s very old.”

“Almost as old as the stars themselves,” she murmured. She sat, watching him, silent as she drank the rest of her drink in one long draught. Jim shivered as a small wave of nausea washed over him. Lenore moved forward just a bit more, a smile on her face, but her eyes seemed cold; cold and empty. “Now, drink up. One mustn’t be rude.”

Confusion gripped him, but he just couldn’t seem to make his thoughts connect. But she was right. He didn’t want to be rude. He needed to be polite. His gut protested along with somewhere else deep down inside him, but he couldn’t fathom why it mattered. He tilted the glass back and dutifully drank the rest down, pleased with himself. He looked back at Lenore. She was pleased, too.

“Very good, captain.” She pulled out a communicator – was that a standard issue? It didn’t seem like one – and spoke low enough he couldn’t make out but a few words, though the final, “Yes, sir,” was loud and clear. She clicked it closed with a snap. “Alright, captain. It’s time to leave now. If you’ll just follow me.”

Jim couldn’t remember. Was he supposed to go with her? He was waiting for someone, right? Lenore was someone and she was here and telling him to go, so it must’ve been her. He made to stand but his legs were wobbly. He wrinkled his brow in frustration. Why was everything suddenly so hard? Why did it hurt to think and move? It was so much effort and he was so tired. He just wanted to lay in a bed and sleep. Maybe she had a bed he could rest in? His stomach roiled in protest again and he clutched at the table to steady himself.

“Here, captain.” She put his arm around her shoulders and held him close, breath hot and warm against his ear. “Only a few steps this way and I’ll get you taken care of.”

He shivered but wasn’t sure if it was Lenore or his protesting stomach. It seemed like a good idea, to be taken care of, so he put one foot in front of the other, and with his balance aided by Lenore, walked out of the bar. A hovercab was waiting for them, and none too soon. Lenore had barely opened the door before Jim fell into it, splaying across the back seat, wanting nothing more than to close his eyes.

His vision was fuzzy, but he watched the blurred outline of Lenore climb into the front passenger seat of the cab, shut the door, and turn back to him. Cooing softly she said, “Sleep now, captain. I will wake you when we get there.”

He sighed in relief. That’s all he wanted. Anything but sleep seemed too hard to manage right now. He curled up in the backseat, pillowed his head on his arm, and promptly fell into the awaiting darkness.

**~~~~**

The talk with Leonard had been insightful, but it had made Spock late – extremely late. A few minutes perhaps, might be forgiven, but fifteen was disrespectful. Hopefully, Jim had received Leonard’s comm on his behalf. He would arrive and apologize and confess his feelings and hope they would be reciprocated. He knew it would take time, but he was willing to wait.

Walking into the bar, brought everything into sharp relief and his apprehension spiked. Could he earn another chance? Or would Jim reject him again? He did not want to be without Jim any longer. He would do what he needed to, what Jim required of him, to earn back his trust.

He was three-quarters through the bar and yet, there was no sign of Jim. His chest tightened, heart thumping in his side. Had Jim left? His search through the last quarter of the establishment also yielded no Jim. He found no trace of him inside. Had Jim given up on him so easily? He made his way to the bartender, a rather gruff-looking Andorian male.

With only a small tilt of his head relaying his surprise, the Andorian promptly asked, “What’ll it be?”

“I am looking for a male – “

“Lucky for you, you’ve found one.” The Andorian’s eyes traveled up and down his frame in…appreciation? “Pretty package, for a Vulcan. I’m willing to slum it a bit if you are.” He ended his shocking proposal with a salacious wink.

Spock blinked. Bars were most decidedly _not_ his preferred establishment. “Perhaps another time,” he prevaricated. “I am looking for a _human_ male, 1.82 meters tall, blond, striking blue eyes and – “

“Oh yeah,” he replied. “No missing that one. His eyes remind me of home –“ Spock noted the bartender’s pupils widened in distinct arousal, “ –that gorgeous blue of glacial ice,” he hummed.

A fierce jealousy rose within Spock, clawing its way into his limbs, longing to lash out at the bold Andorian. He quelled the uprising, but barely. Jim was not his, not at the moment, and it would do no good to injure the Andorian, no matter his crassness. Especially when he might be able to answer the question of Jim’s whereabouts.

Though he refrained from physical violence, his question was little more than a gritted-out growl. “Can you be of assistance and point me to him? We have a scheduled meeting.”

The Andorian eyed him for a moment and then cackled. “Seems you’re a little too late for whatever rendezvous you thought you had. He left with someone else not five minutes ago.” He smiled, sly and devious. “He seemed to be pretty cozied up, very _hands on,_ if you know what I mean. Or maybe you don’t. Vulcans seem to be pretty uptight about their hands. Point is,” he continued, “seemed like they’d be spending at least the night together.”

Spock felt the slap across his face as sure as if it had been physically rendered. Jim had left and though Spock had been late – he realized that was his fault – he had not thought Jim would just…leave. And based upon the Andorian’s implications, he had left in the arms of someone else _?_

“Sure you don’t want to work off some steam now?”

Spock was reeling but had enough jealous anger rolling through him to bite out a scathing reply. “Careful of things too hot for you to handle, Andorian. You might get burned.” Without waiting for a response, he turned on his heel and escaped the bar without looking back.

Once out in the cool night air, with the stifling atmosphere of the bar behind him, he opened his communicator and requested immediate beaming back aboard the Enterprise. If Jim still wanted the bond severed, he would have to contact Spock. He would not chase after him. If he didn’t contact Spock in the next twenty-four hours, it would be impossible to make the trip to Vulcan and back before shore leave ended. The trip would then require special dispensation from Starfleet command and the consequences of admitting what had occurred between them.

Until then, he would occupy himself with work. There was plenty to keep him busy, though he suspected nothing would dull the ache currently burrowing into his side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Comments and kudos are always appreciated.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek, nor am I profiting from this in any way. I am merely playing with the characters for enjoyment's sake.


	6. Chapter Six

Jim awoke slowly, pulling himself through a suffocating sludge weighing down his mind and body. Even before he opened his eyes, he knew something was very wrong. Beyond the lethargy, his body felt weird – stiff and sore and achy – and he had no memory of how it happened.

He couldn’t move, at least not anything that he would consider normal movement. When he finally got his eyes to open, he realized there was so much more wrong than he’d imagined.

His hands were bound behind his back. Under his arms and around his shoulders was a harness which was currently biting into his armpits, shoulders, and neck because it was bearing his body weight. The only thing touching the floor were his toes, just his toes, and a bar kept his legs spread shoulder-width apart. Someone had also undressed him. He was naked and bound and had no fucking clue how he got here.

He was in a room he didn’t recognize. It was eerily lit by a single light embedded in the wall and strangely unfurnished but for a singular chair in front of him about ten feet away. The floor looked to be just smooth metal. The room had the feel of an empty shuttle bay; big, sparse, and creepy.

The cobwebs from his mind cleared pretty damn quick as his flight-or-fight response kicked in. It also helped that pain radiated down his arms and shoulders as he struggled back and forth against his bonds. A resounding hiss echoed in the emptiness as he heard a door open behind him. He thrashed some more, before finally giving up, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. He flinched as a small chuckle sounded close behind his left ear.

“So glad to see you’re awake.”

He stiffened. That voice was …familiar. Clicks reverberated on the floor as they walked around to face him.

“Lenore?” he asked, stunned and confused. Vague, fuzzy images came back to him of the night before at the bar. Son of a bitch.

“In the flesh, captain. Though,” she paused, giving him a slow once over, “no longer my captain. Just plain, inferior, worthless James Tiberius Kirk.”

Whatever she was playing at, he’d already had more than enough. If this was some sick, twisted game… “What’s going on here?” he demanded, struggling against his bonds to no avail. “Why am I here?”

She smiled, but it was frigid, devoid of all warmth. Her eyes though, her eyes shimmered with a malice and insanity he’d rarely seen, and when he had, it had never turned out well for him. He felt the cold hand of fear grip him, causing goosebumps to prick along his skin. He was in serious danger.

“You are here because I want you to meet someone.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you? Let me go! As your commanding officer, I order you – “

“You give no orders here!” she yelled, eyes wild and bright. “There’s only one man I obey, the greatest man to toil in this wretched world.” She drew closer. “And you are not him, could never deign to be him,” she hissed. She closed her eyes, and drew a deep breath, visually struggling to remain calm. When she opened her eyes, her voice vibrated with barely concealed glee. “But he is the person I want you to meet. We all have _so much_ to catch up on.”

She pulled out a communicator, waited for the connecting tone and simply said, “He’s awake,” then closed it with a harsh snap. She turned, walking to the chair and adjusting it. She deliberately dragged it across the floor, adjusting multiple times just to irritate him. The screech of the chair set his teeth on edge.

For several long minutes, she did nothing but watch him while they waited for this mystery man to show. He didn’t know what was going on, but he was not looking forward to it. Lenore had gone to a lot of trouble to kidnap him and bring him here. That did not bode well. Panic started to bubble up, threatening to spill out and betray his thin veneer of calm. So he closed his eyes and focused on breathing. Maybe he could come up with a plan to get out of this mess.

A dozen breaths later and the door behind him opened again, only this time the footfalls were broader, flatter, and more determined. He didn’t pause behind him like Lenore had, he simply walked straightforward to where Lenore still sat, and leaned down to kiss her on the forehead, whispering, “Well done, my child. As ever, well done.”

Her eyes fluttered, her face glowing with the praise, before he turned toward Jim. Lenore stood, grandstanding in her introduction as she proudly said, “Behold my father, Anton Karidian, though you may recognize him by another: Adrian Kodos.”

“No,” he breathed. No. No, no, no. “That’s not possible.” Jim’s mind cried out, his panic soaring to a fever pitch, his body shuddering as long-buried memories of pain and death rose up to choke the very breath from him. Kodos was dead. Kodos was _dead_.

“Hello, James.” Kodos’ voice was soft and deadly. “I am delighted you have not forgotten me after all these years.”

“You – but you,” he stuttered, “you’re dead.”

Kodos’ laugh echoed in the empty room. “Mm, not quite. That was a bit of genius on my part though. Switching DNA records takes a certain bit of _finesse._ ” Kodos prowled forward. “I promised I would finish you all those years ago, and I do endeavor to keep my promises. Surely you remember?”

Jim clenched his jaw tight. His voice threatened to betray him, longing to scream aloud to match the shrill cacophony currently flooding every fiber of his being. He remembered. Vividly.

Kodos smiled. “I see that you do. You always were a bright child. Unfortunate that you’re so genetically flawed.” Kodos reached up to stroke a finger along his shoulder and down one arm. Jim twisted and fought but there was little give in his bonds, and it was all for show anyway. He could not escape his touch.

“Always fighting against inevitability.” Kodos shook his head. “It took me a long time to get to you. But I have.” He ran his fingers across his chest. “Clever boy; pretending, hiding them so others don’t have to see what you really are: an excellent façade.” Kodos leaned close enough that Jim felt his breath brush across his skin. “We’ll take care of that.”

“Fuck you,” he ground out.

Kodos ignored him and tsked. “You know, James. That’s no way to treat someone who has a present for you.” Kodos turned to Lenore. “Bring him in.”

“Of course, father.” The clicks of her footsteps fell away once the door closed behind her.

This was all a nightmare. It had to be. He needed it to be. A very vivid, disturbing nightmare from which he needed to wake up from. Now. Because if this was real – if this was _real_ – he didn’t know if he had the strength to make it through Kodos’ particular brand of torture again.

Kodos remained silent, slowly making it all the way around him, stroking along his skin every now and then. Every touch felt like a brand burning through his system. When he was finished, he stood in front of Jim again, head tilted, a question in his eyes.

“How did you manage it? Erasing them?”

Jim glared, but said nothing.

“Excellent work, but it’s still just a mask. I can still feel the deep ones, the irregularities in your skin. My marks are still there.”

Jim quivered in pent up rage and justifiable fear. If he could only get his hands around the monster’s neck, he’d squeeze and squeeze until the life was choked out of him and not regret it for one second.

“Oh, if looks could kill, James. But alas, technology has a bit to go yet before it can manage that.”

A hydraulic hiss brought with it the sounds of struggling. Lenore dragged a man, young from the looks of him, and dumped him in a crumpled heap near the now forgotten chair. He was bound, gagged, and blindfolded. Holding a phaser to his head, she ordered the young man up on his knees.

Jim wracked his brain, trying to place the young man before him, but he was at a loss. Something nagged at him, but he just couldn’t put his finger on it. He could tell it pissed off his captors when he made no attempt at engaging them.

“You don’t recognize him, do you?” Kodos laughed, a sinister thing that barely concealed the madness within. “Pity. I’m sure everyone here was hoping you would, especially him.” Without looking away from Jim’s face, he said, “Take off the blindfold and gag, my dear.”

Lenore did as she was told, and only when he could see the full face, see the eyes that stared back at him, did he know who the young man was.

“Kevin?” he rasped.

“Jimmy?” Kevin replied. He saw Kevin straighten himself, spine rigid before addressing him again. “Captain.”

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. They’d kidnapped Kevin, too. The helplessness in Jim grew as he took in the battered state of Kevin; a member of his crew whose safety, as his captain, he was tasked with keeping. Even more so than that, he had once cared for Kevin as if he were his own brother.

He was at a loss. He didn’t know what to do. So he said the only thing that came to him, the one thing he had said over and over again when they were kids, running away from Kodos and his men on Tarsus IV. He had meant it then, and he sure as hell was going to try his damndest to mean it now. “Hey, Kev. Don’t worry, okay? It’s gonna be okay.”

That laugh rang out again. “Really, James? You’re not still naïve enough to believe that, or think that your young lieutenant here does either?”

He stared Kodos down, his eyes flashing with all the hate and anger he could muster. “Go. To. Hell.”

“Not just yet,” he whispered. “I’m here to finish what I started.” Kodos stepped back and headed to the chair and closer to Kevin. He sat, comfortable and at ease. “You know, James, you and Kevin are the last of the famed Nine; the last who could possibly identify me, the last who escaped your ordered, honorable death, and the last two I will kill. If you had just surrendered to your fate, you would not be in this position now.”

Kodos clasped his hands, head tilted in contemplation. “I can’t decide which I prefer: to kill Kevin in front of you, and you living, however brief, with the knowledge that you could not save him, that you failed to protect him or, have Kevin be the last and watch as yet another who cared for him, loved him, protected him dies by my hand and my will, writhing in agony just as his parents did. Who would be more broken do you think?”

Neither Jim nor Kevin heard the last line, each shouting in fear and impotent rage. Kevin made to stand and charge them. Without hesitation or remorse, Lenore raised her arm and fired.

“NO!” Jim screamed, watching as Kevin crumbled to the floor.

“Don’t worry,” Kodos said. “It was merely set to stun. He’ll be awake again soon enough. But for now, I think I’d like to get started on you.” He held out his hand to Lenore, “Come, child. Let me show you.”

Jim’s heart battered against his chest, his breaths quick and shallow. Kodos withdrew a small buck knife, brandishing it to glimmer in the low light. His gut twisted. He recognized the blade. It was the same one that had sliced him before. His thirteen-year old self rose from the shackled depths of Jim’s memories to lash out at him; to remind him of exactly what Kodos was capable of.

Jim thrashed and fought, until his muscles and lungs burned with the exertion. When his body was too tired to continue, he spat at them both. “You’re both fucking monsters. You’re the ones who are fucked up. You’re the broken ones. Not me.” _Not me_ , the man he’d become echoed. His inner child pleaded, _Not me_. He had tried desperately his whole life to make it convincing. He wasn’t broken.

“We all know that’s a lie.” Kodos laid the edge of the blade along his skin, and Jim stilled. In one quick movement, his skin was sliced, just to the left of his sternum. He hissed at the bright flare of pain and felt a wetness ooze down his torso.

Kodos smiled at the mark, at the blood trickling out of the wound. He’d told thirteen-year-old Jim he practiced frequently, ensuring he’d go deep enough to scar, but nothing else. “What are the rules, James?”

“Go fuck yourself.”

Kodos sighed. “I can’t say this will be easy for you. In fact, I intend for it not to be. But your attitude will make it worse.” Kodos moved so quick Jim startled to see the older man come at him. He made three quick cuts in rapid succession, one each along his ribs and then one on his thigh. Jim cried out in pain and surprise. Fuck, it hurt.

“How many?” Kodos demanded.

Jim knew. He knew the answer, but he didn’t want to give it, didn’t want to acknowledge what was happening to him. Not again. He shook his head, denying his tormentor the satisfaction.

Kodos aimed again. Three more slices, all varying lengths, were laid upon his skin. Kodos stepped back and waited. When Jim persisted in his defiance, he sighed in exasperation. “Must you always be so stubborn?” He moved close, close enough to feel his breath along his skin and lifted the knife slowly, every move controlled and calculated. The tip of the knife laid against his skin just to the left of his right nipple. Kodos looked at him, brow raised expectantly.

“ _Fuck. You.”_

Kodos’ eyes turned hard as tritanium. Jim tensed, feeling the tip slip into his skin, digging into the underlying flesh. Kudos _pressed_ , twisting the knife back and forth in tiny movements that wormed deeper into his muscle, tearing it. It fucking hurt worse than the slices. Jim’s whole body shook with the adrenaline and fear pumping through his veins, and he gnashed his teeth against the scream that sat at the back of his throat, longing to tear free. Kodos pulled back and waited again.

Jim’s chin dropped to his chest as the piercing pain ebbed. His body sagged as he attempted to calm his ragged breaths. He barely cracked open his eyes, but he could easily see the blood running down his body. Why? Why did he have to endure this again? Wasn’t once enough? He saw Kodos’ hand move in his peripheral, the knife coming closer and he jerked within his bonds, rasping out, “223. It’s number 223.”

“Good. Very good.” Kodos walked around him, running his fingers through the tiny rivulets of blood. “I knew you would remember. Now,” he began, “tell me how you hid the others.”

“Cosmetics,” he said. “And a specialized regenerator.”

“Hm. Semi-permanent I’m guessing?”

Jim didn’t look up. He just nodded.

“Well then, guess there’s no harm in waiting for them to reappear. We have a way to go before we get to the full count anyway.” Kodos turned back to Lenore, who had been watching intently with a burning, crazed lust in her eyes. “Here, Lenore. Come, take your turn.”

Jim could tell she was practically vibrating with excitement.

“I am honored, but afraid. I do not want to disappoint you, father.”

“Never, my child.”

Jim zoned out a bit as he heard Kodos explain how to hold the knife, how to press, how to slice but not drag. All Jim could think was how monsters, real and brutal and ugly, had been in his life too many times. Kodos was by far the worse.

Lenore came close enough for him to smell her flowery perfume over the metallic sweetness of his own blood. “How I have waited for this,” she cooed. “My father will finally be free of you once this is over.”

Jim braced himself against the burn of another cut, of feeling his skin break open against the cold metal of the blade. He gasped as the pain rolled through him. Fuck that one really hurt. He felt like he was going to puke.

“You cut too deep, my dear,” the monster tsked. “You’re too eager. Remember he must last through until the end. And you failed to make him count.”

Lenore brandished the knife before his eyes. He closed them and turned away from the red, glistening edge. “How many is that?”

He made the decision then. He closed himself off, burying himself deep within his walls. Maybe he could save his sanity if he buried himself deep enough to disconnect from it all. “224,” he said.

By the end of the first round, another twenty-eight cuts had been laid upon his skin. All but the one that was deemed too deep was left open. Just as before. And like before, he had been hooked up to an intravenous drip loaded with whatever cocktail of drugs kept him from getting an infection or dehydrating or dying before they’d finished.

Using a system of pulleys, they lowered his body to a foam mat on the floor, though they kept him bound and naked. Exhaustion hit him too quickly to think about escape – they’d probably given him a mild sedative to boot – and Jim fell into a fitful sleep. The nightmare of his day followed him, torturing him even as he slept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Comments and kudos are always appreciated.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek, nor am I profiting from this in any way. I am merely playing with the characters for enjoyment's sake.


	7. Chapter Seven

Five days. At least he thought it had been. His sense of time had faded rapidly after the first twenty-four hours in the face of everything else. It felt like eons since he left the Enterprise for the bar.

Five days or eons, it didn’t matter. Jim was cracking; each slice into his skin another fissure that would eventually shatter him into a million pieces. He withdrew further, falling deep into himself. A small part of him hoped for rescue; the part that had found a family he loved and cared for aboard the Enterprise. The cynical part of him laughed. _How could he have been so foolish?_ He should have known he was not worthy enough to have that life, to be a part of them.

He knew this monster in a very intimate sense, and he would not be so careless to lose a prize he waited so long to have. Jim was alone. There’d be no Starfleet vessel to save him this time. He was older and wiser; the innocent hope of youth had been stolen long ago.

He flinched as he heard the door open behind him. Moving hurt, so he laid where he was and didn’t struggle as he was once again hooked up via his harness to the cables and pulleys that would suspend him again. As his body lifted, Kodos tossed a black bag onto the chair then marched back to him, grabbing his chin in an iron grip.

“How is it that you are healing so quickly? I have laid one hundred seven marks upon you and yet, they are almost all _gone._ ” He squeezed harder. “Answer me, boy.” Jim maintained his silence. He didn’t know why, but he sure as fuck wasn’t going to offer up suggestions. Kodos let go of him. “No matter. I have ways of finding out what I need to know.”

“How? By drugging me up some more? Or maybe by whoring out your daughter to try and learn my secrets?” The sharp blow across his jaw was expected. It hurt, starbursts of pain stabbing behind his eyes, but at least he’d gotten a nice jab in himself.

“Such filth, James, and rather hypocritical coming from you, don’t you think? You found it an effective means to an end, did you not? I distinctly remember how you _distracted_ my guards to steal my provisions for your little band of miscreants.” Kodos stepped back and dug through the black bag he brought in and pulled out two syringes, and though Jim could fight it, it wouldn’t make a difference. He’d tire himself out and Kodos would still take what he wanted.

He turned away as Kodos drew his blood. Saving what energy he had for escape – if there even was one – was the most logical choice. Jim almost snorted out loud. That had sounded so much like Spock, he could almost hear him. He gritted his teeth against the swell in his chest at the mere thought of Spock. He did _not_ want to analyze that. Not right now.

The last needle withdrew from his arm. “We’ll run some tests on this. See what you’re hiding.” With that, Kodos walked out, the door shutting with a click as it locked behind him.

He had no idea how long he hung there, waiting, but it was long enough for his arms to grow heavy and his mind to go numb. The reverberation of Kodos’ laughter as he walked through the door pulled him out of the dark. Dread propelled his heart rate into a rapid thumping in his chest.

“You’re an augment.” Kodos came around to stand in front of him, the smug delight unmistakable, and clearly written across his face. “An augment,” he laughed.

Fuck. He’d been hoping it wasn’t that and that it wasn’t something Kodos would’ve been able to figure out. “Not by choice,” Jim bit out.

“No matter. Willing or not, it’s given you accelerated healing.” Kodos’ smile was nothing short of deranged glee. “My oh my, but you are full of surprises.” Kodos stepped back and moved the bag to the floor to sit in the lone chair, twirling two syringes end-over-end in his hand. He sat, pondering, the smirk never leaving his face. “You know, when I was working out how to get to you – how to get to all nine of you – I made some very…let’s say _interesting_ contacts. One claimed to work for a clandestine force and told me this story, just rumors really, that in the deep, dark underbelly of your precious Starfleet, augments had been used for some rather nefarious purposes. And that someone had died but was miraculously resurrected using an augment’s blood. That’s got me wondering. Was that you, James?”

Jim squeezed his jaw tight, refraining from saying anything else. This was dangerous territory on many different levels.

“Well –” Kodos stood, delight dancing in his eyes, “ – just means we will have to change tactics a bit, that’s all. Make sure your augmentation doesn’t interfere with my plans.” He took the first syringe and inserted its contents into his IV. “This one’s nothing special, just a high-powered anti-inflammatory. Unfortunately, it’ll help with the pain – to a certain point anyway – but as an added side effect, it also slows the healing process.” 

Pulling the first out, he inserted the second. “This one though. This is the important one and took a bit of _persuasion_ to acquire. It’s a bit of an anti-coagulant to further retard the healing process, and a nice dose of cytotoxic antineoplastics.” Kodos stepped back, pleased. “Your augment blood will have a tough time working against that. I’ll be back in about an hour. By then, the medicine should have started working and we can get back to business.”

A growing bleakness gnawed at him. Maybe he’d die. Really die this time.

Only problem was last time, he’d been prepared. He’d known back then that he wasn’t coming out of that warp core alive. Had told himself that it was the best thing he’d ever be able to do with his life. But this time, he wasn’t prepared.

There were so many things he’d left unfinished, so many more people he cared about that he didn’t want to leave behind. If he was truthful, his biggest regret was how things had ended up with Spock. He’d pushed him away. Maybe if he hadn’t, maybe things would be different. Maybe Spock wouldn’t have felt the need to reach out and comfort on him. Maybe the accidents wouldn’t have happened. And maybe he’d have never ended up in that damn bar and wouldn’t be here now.

Even Vulcan hearing would’ve had a tough time picking up the words he spoke into the darkness. “I’m sorry, Spock.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Comments and kudos are always appreciated.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek, nor am I profiting from this in any way. I am merely playing with the characters for enjoyment's sake.


	8. Chapter Eight

One hundred twenty hours. It had been one hundred twenty hours, and no one knew where the captain was. At this point, the entire command crew had tried comming him but Jim had not responded, and though Spock could see Jim ignoring him, or potentially even Doctor McCoy, Jim would not ignore the rest of the command crew. Something was wrong.

In fact, Spock was in a meeting room with the senior officers discussing just that. He stopped his pacing to return his focus to the conversations at hand.

“Aye, I’ve tried triangulating his signal multiple times and it donnae come back with nothing. The damn thing’s either turned off or been tampered with.” Keenser nodded in agreement with Mister Scott.

“Jim may be a bit reckless, but he wouldn’t do that,” chimed Uhura. “Especially not after Altimid.”

“Chekov,” Spock interrupted, “any luck cleaning up the security footage from the bar? We need to identify the person with Jim.”

Chekov cleared his throat. “Uh, no sir. The footage is too compromised, and the images only pixelate further. I doubt the owner cares about security. This was recorded on the oldest system I’ve ever seen.”

Spock’s fingers twitched at his side. He had gone back to the bar at the forty-eight-hour mark and demanded the security tapes. He had observed Jim arriving early, having several drinks alone, only to see someone appear. They talked and drank together. By the time they left, Jim appeared to be significantly inebriated. Spock’s fists clenched. Their seduction took little time to work as they walked out with Jim no more than fifteen minutes after their arrival. No one had seen Jim since.

“Each of you will continue to look for the captain in any way necessary. I believe he is in danger and we must find him. Back to your posts. You are dismissed. Except for you Doctor McCoy.” 

He saw the furtive glances as the rest of the senior crew hurried out of the room. When the last one departed and the door slid shut, Spock noticeably deflated as he sat in the chair at the head of the conference table.

“When’s the last time you slept?”

“It is inconsequential. Vulcans require less sleep than humans.”

“You still have to decompress. You’re no good to us, to Jim, if you aren’t stayin’ sharp physically and mentally.”

Spock did not want to argue the point. So instead he said, “There is a strong possibility I can find Jim, or at the very least communicate with him.”

“What?” McCoy bellowed. “Why haven’t you – “

“It would require using the bond.”

Leonard’s mouth snapped shut. He closed his eyes and huffed out a breath, plopping down into the chair beside Spock. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Dammit.”

“Indeed. I would once again enter his mind without his consent.”

“We don’t know, not for sure, that he’s even in trouble.” McCoy rubbed his hands over his face, muttering, “This is a goddamn mess.”

Spock understood. He had wrestled with himself for the past twelve hours but kept coming back to the same conclusion. Based upon the data at hand, every hour that passed increased the odds that Jim was in danger and could not escape. Jim, no matter his feelings for Spock, would not leave his post and abandon the Enterprise. In fact, his sense of duty and loyalty to the ship and his crew negated any scenario in which Jim would willingly go AWOL, even during shore leave.

If not for traveling to Vulcan with intent to sever the bond, Jim would not have taken shore leave. He had been caught several times suffering from lower efficiency ratings by refusing to properly decompress and take the appropriated down time. Before the incidents with Altimid and Yorktown, Spock often had to force him to take them.

Even more concerning were their orders to depart space dock in four days. If they did not find Jim before that, Spock would be forced to formally report as captain of the Enterprise, and it would require reporting Jim’s absence to the admiralty. Whether Starfleet would consider him missing or absent without leave would be up to the data on hand, which currently consisted of Jim being clearly inebriated and leaving with a yet unknown person.

“Jim would not leave his post. Nor would he neglect comms from his senior officers. I calculate the odds of him being in danger and unable to respond at 87.62%. He would not do this.”

Leonard dropped his hands and looked at him. “I know. It really is the only explanation.” He gazed at him a moment longer, perceptive eyes studying him. “You want my consent in his stead.” It was not a question.

“I find I am…reluctant to make the decision. I want him to be my mate and so I yearn to reach for him through the bond. Your consent as CMO and Jim’s best friend would ease my misgivings; that I am considering this course of action for my own selfish reasons. And on the small chance he is not in danger…”

“He’d be furious at me, too.” McCoy shook his head, a bitter laugh escaping. “Can’t say I blame you.” He rubbed his hands up and down his face and mumbled, “Gods help us all.” It was a few long moments before McCoy looked at him again. “Alright, Spock. You’ve got my consent. When do you want to try?”

“Immediately, if you are amenable.”

“Of course.” Leonard threw his hands up in resignation. “Why the hell not? Time won’t make this whole thing get any better.”

Spock would have preferred to access the bond in his quarters and after meditating away the day’s complications, but he did not want to wait. The sooner Jim was back aboard the Enterprise, the better. Though Jim’s absence alone made him uneasy, there was a growing sense of foreboding that he could not pinpoint, a sense that they were running out of time. He sought to allay those fears as well.

He closed his eyes and steadied his breath into measured counts. His palms flattened on the cool metal table and he _concentrated_. In his mind he ventured to the bonding area, currently a shuttered void, still and silent. He lowered his shields gradually, paced and deliberate, so as not to overwhelm his mind, or Jim’s, by the suddenness of sensation where there had been none.

His shields were barely lowered when it assailed him; there was a permeating wrongness to the bond. It was stunted, starved of nourishment during its infancy. It ached to be completed, beckoning to his need for connection and understanding. He steeled himself against it and pressed on, traveling along it to Jim’s side and _pushed_.

Nothing.

When the barrier on Jim’s side of the bond rippled with unease, it filled Spock with a greater sense of urgency. Though disconcerting, he could not stop until he knew Jim was safe. He gathered his strength of will and thought of Jim – touching him, knowing him, loving him – and shoved hard at the block between their minds. Spock felt himself go rigid, his world turning into a miasma of rapid sensory overload.

Unexpectedly, the bond opened fully, strengthening, solidifying, and deepening. Confusion seeped in. A bond so neglected should not have reacted thus. The bond intensified until it shone as bright as Sol. The answer overwhelmed him. One word echoed across the bond and was breathed out across his lips in soft reverence: _T’hy’la._

But now that he could feel Jim, the impression of his mind was altered. It did not have the same resonance as the touches he glimpsed before. Something was very wrong.

Suddenly, he sensed feedback coming from Jim. At first, he felt a roiling anger. He did not know the cause, but in case it was directed at Spock’s presence in his mind yet again, he tried to soothe and calm, presenting himself as a neutral party simply intent on Jim’s welfare.

However, in the next breath, the anger morphed into an assault of sensations. It was then he knew the depth of what Jim was experiencing both in that moment and every moment since his disappearance. Spock drowned in the tsunami of pain crashing through the bond, vaguely aware of his hands clawing against his temples as he screamed Jim’s name.

As quickly as it had appeared, the barrage stopped. Spock found he could not control his mind’s reaction. It drew into itself and fortified his shields – the most basic form of mental preservation – and though he struggled to stop it, he collapsed into a smothering darkness and knew nothing more.

~~~~

“Much better,” his tormentor preened. “Seems the drugs are working quite well.”

Jim had stopped screaming long ago. He wanted to, needed to, but he couldn’t. His throat was raw, like claws had dragged down his throat and shredded the tender muscles. Every noise he made hurt.

It didn’t matter what he did anyway. Whether he screamed or not, the cuts just kept coming. They’d even hooked him up to several IVs now; a cocktail of drugs and fluids and blood just to keep him alive long enough to finish the torture.

He was so tired. Everything ached. Everything hurt. He just wanted it to stop.

“In fact, it looks like my original marks are back as well.” Jim hissed as fingers traced long his chest and stomach, trailing older scars and crossing over the ones that would be. If he lived anyway. Every touch was amplified, his nerves oversensitive and strained. His skin crawled in revulsion. “I am very pleased to see them. I’ll be able to see them all, admire the beauty of their presentation on you by the end.” Kodos reached out, lifting Jim’s head with an iron grip on his jaw. “Now, back to our session. What number are we on?”

It was so many. Too many. If he didn’t give an answer, would they go away? No, they wouldn’t. They would just hurt him more, more than they already did. He was tired; tired of constantly fighting for this life, tired of fighting for everything – just tired. He uttered the number in the desperation that if he kept counting, this would all be over sooner, and he could rest. “487.”

“Good boy.” Kodos dropped his chin and brandished the blade he held. The silver of the blade glowed. Jim sucked in a hard breath when Kodos added another cut. “Number?”

Jim’s whole body shuddered but he didn’t resist, an obedient “488,” falling from his lips. He was breaking. He knew it, could feel it; the disconnect between his mind and body preparing for the end. It was the waiting he hated, the slow degradation of who he was.

He didn’t care if he died. Hell, he already had once, and come much too close more times than he cared to count. Jim twitched as his body bore several more slices, rasping out the numbers without prompting. His mind cried out, silently screaming for him to find a way to end this. It was too much to endure.

Suddenly, his brain felt like it was splintering, a massive headache blooming and sharpening into a stabbing pain behind his eyes. Twisting in his restraints, he gasped, flexing forward with what little give they had. He protested against it, angered that his body sought to betray him further before the ache disappeared and he felt the presence of something distinctly familiar. A presence he would know anywhere.

“Spock?” he breathed.

Tears gathered and fell, his body trembling with the gentle calm he felt wash over him. And he knew. Spock was using their bond to contact him, to find him.

He did the only thing he could think of, the only thing his desperation allowed. For the first time in many hours, regardless of the additional pain, he screamed out, letting everything he tried to disconnect from push him towards that presence of Spock in his mind, trying with images and words and sound to tell him. He didn’t know how to use the bond, so he pleaded out loud, hoping Spock would hear him. 

“Help me, Spock. Please, save me.”

A surge within his mind set him alight, everything too bright and stark against his fragile psyche as all the wires reconnected between his mind and body. He gave one last scream, and overwhelmed, he promptly passed out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Comments and kudos are always appreciated.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek, nor am I profiting from this in any way. I am merely playing with the characters for enjoyment's sake.


	9. Chapter Nine

He awoke with a jolt. Disoriented and his head aching, he opened his eyes and attempted to sit up. His vision swam. All at once images assailed him, jumbled nonsense but for the clarity of the terror and agony that went with them. He pressed the heel of his hands to his temples and let out a small groan. Somewhere in the peripheral of his besieged senses he heard incessant beeping and hurried footsteps.

“Thank the gods you’re awake!” There was a pause when he did not move. “Spock?”

He shook his head, rasping out, “A moment, doctor,” before falling silent, unable to quiet the noise within his mind well enough to continue. It took but mere minutes to regain control, but Spock felt guilty for it all the same. Every moment he was not looking for Jim was a moment wasted. He could not make sense of the mess Jim had sent him. He only knew it was dire.

Jim was in mortal peril.

When the ache dulled to a softened roar, he dropped his hands into his lap and opened his eyes to a restless Doctor McCoy, arms crossed and bouncing lightly on his toes, impatiently waiting for news.

“How long have I been unconscious?”

McCoy flicked a glance at the chronometer above the biobed. “Almost two hours.”

The pronouncement shook his carefully tethered control. They did not have that time to lose. “Jim is in danger.”

“I figured that much out,” Leonard replied. “But what happened? Did you find out where he is, what’s going on?”

“I am unsure.” Spock sighed, closing his eyes once again, trying to make sense of the images, but there were too many of them; it was like getting all the pieces to multiple puzzles and having no reference for which piece belonged to which picture. He could not put them back together. “I was able to reach Jim’s mind, and he responded, but – “

“But what?”

“It was too much information too quickly; a sensory overload for both of us.” He opened his eyes. “Then the connection abruptly ended.”

McCoy sucked in a breath and stilled. “Is he – “

“He is alive.” Spock winced as pain throbbed behind his eyes. “I think, perhaps, what he sent to me, and our connection, it overwhelmed him.”

“Well, can you help him? Get any useful information from that bond of yours?”

“Navigating a bond is something learned and practiced,” he retorted, anger flaring in his gut. He took a cleansing breath. Whatever his current frustrations, he must maintain his control. “I do not know if Jim will be able to reciprocate and give us what we need.”

“Jim’s a quick learner. Just try,” McCoy pressed.

“Of course I will try” – Spock’s spine grew rigid, straightening noticeably – “to my utmost ability, as always.”

“I know.” McCoy blew out a breath and gently laid a hand on his shoulder. “I’m worried about Jim, too.”

Spock stared, relaxing after a moment and gave a small nod of understanding. “If you agree, I will attempt to contact him again now.”

“Now wait just a damn minute. You just woke up from a two-hour nap induced by the last one. Are you sure this is safe? For either of you? Shouldn’t you rest or meditate or something?”

“In a perfect world, yes, but we do not have the luxury of time.” He could tell Leonard was not pleased with his answer, but he begrudgingly nodded his assent.

Spock’s eyes closed and he breathed out, slow and even. He would need to concentrate past the pain to be able to reach Jim and obtain useful information. Fortifying his shields, he delved back into the bond, now thrumming with life, strong and virile, and made his way to Jim’s side. He did not need to force himself through as last time. Their connection had been made and strengthened. He touched Jim’s mind gently, announcing his presence on a whisper and waited.

It was quiet for a dozen heartbeats and then: pain, exhaustion, resignation. Spock pushed his thoughts through – _Jim, I can help you. Concentrate on me. Use the bond. Tell me where you are. –_ over and over until he felt a surge of energy from Jim. He caught bits of thoughts and feelings: scared, hurt, cold. _I understand,_ he replied, _but concentrate on one detail, one image. Help me find you._

He jerked, a sudden whiplash of emotions flooding the bond; the red haze of anger and repulsive taste of disgust hitting him first and then crushing _fear._ _Jim?_ He heard Jim’s screams echo – _No. NO. NO!_ He attempted to soothe, but the strength of the emotions overtook him. He pleaded. _Please Jim, tell me something, anything._

Agony reverberated across the bond, throwing him back into his mind with a sharp snap. Spock collapsed back into the biobed, his chest squeezing tight against the pain radiating from the bond, from Jim. He could not parse out his own thoughts. He was compromised.

McCoy hovered, running the medical tricorder over him in worry as the biobed indicators beeped warnings of elevated bodily functions. It did not help that Spock’s body shook; small tremors wracking his frame as he processed the feedback pouring from the bond.

He knew what he must do, though it grieved him to do so.

Pulsing back his affection and remorse, he raised his shields against the gnawing pain, creating a barrier between them once again, so he could have control of his mental function. The guilt within him spread, its claws sinking deep into his soul.

“Spock?!”

His eyes fluttered open. “I am here, doctor.”

“Goddammit, can you quit doing that? Gonna give me a damn heart attack!”

He turned to look at him. “I apologize. It was not my intent.”

McCoy shooed that away. “What happened this time? Did it work?”

“Negative. There was interference from whatever or whomever is causing Jim pain.”

McCoy visibly deflated.

“I will try again, but I require a short meditation. My mind is…battered.” He clenched his fists at his side. “I have failed to remain connected; allowed the strength of Jim’s emotions to thwart my attempts.” His voice came out a low growl as he vowed, “I will not fail again.”

“Spock, I can’t have you – “

“Sirs! Sirs!” Mister Scott came running in, Keenser dutifully trotting behind. “I might have something.”

Spock drew up on his elbows, and McCoy swiveled to meet their guest.

“It’s just that, I was running the crew lists, trying to reorganize the duty rosters – a lot less efficiently than you Mister Spock – what with me being acting captain and all while you were passed out and the captain is missing and so –“

“Good gods man, spit it out,” McCoy barked.

“Sorry. It’s just – Jim’s not the only crewmember that’s AWOL. Two others haven’t checked in either. Ensign Lenore Karidian – she’s in my department – and Lieutenant Kevin Riley. And I checked. They’re both new to the Enterprise as of our last resupply stop on Starbase 2. Being as we’ve never had a crewmember go AWOL, well permanently anyway, thought you might –”

Spock sat up, his whole body coming to attention at Mister Scott’s report. “It cannot be.”

McCoy rounded on him. “Can’t be what?”

Spock looked at them both. “Nothing definitive, but the coincidence is too unlikely to be anything else.” Spock swung his legs off the biobed and stood, albeit a bit unsteady. “I need your console, doctor.”

Without any further words they headed to McCoy’s office. Mister Scott (with Keenser as his dutiful shadow) and Leonard took the chairs in front of the doctor’s desk, while Spock sat in the chair behind it. He quickly logged in, his fingers flying as he explained his suspicions.

“Before we picked up these particular crewmembers, I ran an algorithm to alert me for any abnormalities among the new crew. Riley and Karidian were each marked with a red flag; one for missing data, the other for a minor mental breakdown. I presented them to Jim. He recognized one of them: Kevin Riley.” Spock paused. There was no way to keep Jim’s secret now, but he would make sure it went no further than it had to. “They were on Tarsus IV together.”

Mister Scott sucked in a breath. “My gods. Tarsus. They’d have only been children then.”

“Indeed, Mister Scott. They are part of the famous Tarsus Nine, all children according to Jim, who survived their ordered massacre that day.” His fingers continued to tap and click at the data coming on screen, the sounds piercing against the silence of their thoughts.

“However,” he continued, “it seems Jim and Kevin are the only two remaining alive.” He turned the console around. “Jim mentioned the other six the night of the winter party. It was within that same twenty-fours that he was notified of Thomas Latham’s death. It appears they have all died within the last two years, Thomas Latham most recently.”

McCoy interjected, “But that’s not statistically probable, given their ages.”

“You are correct, doctor and if not for the information disclosed by Jim, no one would have known. The identity of The Nine has been protected and very few knew who they all were, besides the survivors themselves, of course.” He turned the console back and continued working.

“What are you thinking, Spock?”

“He thinks the lass is involved. Don’t you?” Mister Scott asked.

“You’re joking, right?” McCoy’s disbelief was apparent. “That sweetheart of a girl?”

“She is the only logical choice, the only variable that does not have a proper explanation.” It _was_ the only logical choice, but how was she involved? Spock could admit he disliked the ensign. However, attempting to woo Jim did not give him proof. He needed proof.

His whole body froze when it made the connection. How could he have missed it? He pulled up the grainy security footage, once again disgusted at the lack of quality, and concentrated on the person with Jim. She was the right build and height and her hair was the right color.

It was Ms. Karidian.

He turned the console around and played the video again.

“Oh man,” Mister Scott winced. “How did we miss that? That’s Lenore alright.”

Leonard studied it a bit longer, but finally agreed as well. “It’s a pretty solid call for being the ensign.”

Satisfied they saw the same resemblance, he turned the screen back and began pulling up file after file, leaping from association to association. He must find it, whatever piece of data he had missed, or Jim would perish. Of that he was certain. Her file brought up nothing. His jaw clenched in growing frustration. He dug deeper, checking her family and friends and known associates, and running them through his background algorithm.

It took less than thirty seconds for it to ping back with a glaring issue: her father, Anton Karidian. Though Anton appeared to be an upstanding citizen, his file contained no data prior to eighteen years ago.

Eighteen years. Tarsus.

He felt gutted, his stomach sinking in dread. His search became more frantic, rummaging through years of data to try and obtain pictures, holovids, and voice imprints; anything to help identify Mr. Karidian. He found only one: a photo taken approximately three years ago for interstellar travel documents. He pulled up the photo and made a second query for a photo of one Adrian Kodos, governor of Tarsus IV.

Spock stilled as the two photos emerged side-by-side. He quickly engaged another program, tasking the computer to cross reference and identify similarities. Spock was rarely impatient but every second that ticked by as he waited for the computer to compile the data points grated on his threadbare control. The echoed ping of the computer notified him it had finished its task, but his eyebrow rose in skepticism at the displayed results. Only an 89.24% match.

“What is it?”

He turned the screen again. “What do you perceive?”

They each moved forward, peering at the data on the screen. 

“My gods.” Leonard looked up in disbelief at Spock. “You think Lenore’s father is Kodos? That Kodos is alive and has Jim?”

“Looks like you have a solid match there,” Mister Scott added.

Spock steepled his fingers, resting them against his lips as his mind ran through all the correlated data points. “But not an exact match. Not according to the computer.”

Mister Scott shook his head. “I’m usually one to agree with ya, my life being dependent on my trusting in electronics and computers and the like, but that there is Kodos.”

“That is no simple accusation. We’re dealing with a man’s life here” – McCoy stood to start pacing, gesturing wide with his arms – “no machine should make that decision.”

“Agreed.”

“I understand, doc and you too, Spock. But look at the eyes.” His voice was quiet but laced with a biting sharpness in a way it rarely ever was. “He might’ve been able to get some cosmetic surgery, change a few bits here and there, but the eyes are the same. You cannae hide murdering four thousand innocent souls. It changes you. It’s in his eyes.”

By the loaded silence, it seemed they had come to an agreement. They believed the man, Lenore’s father, was Kodos, and that meant that Kodos and his daughter had Jim and Kevin. If they did not find them soon, they would suffer the same fate as the rest of The Nine. They would be dead, murdered by the man who had ordered their deaths long ago.

Spock stood, pulling at the hem of his shirt. “I will run contact tracing on Anton Karidian and hope he has made a mistake that will lead us to them.” He turned to Leonard. “I know Jim is hurt. Kevin is likely to be, too. Gather a team of three, including yourself, to be ready at a moment’s notice. Once we find them, there may be little time to intercede.”

Leonard nodded, glancing back to the console and face of the man they believed was Kodos.

“Mister Scott?”

“Yessir?”

“Pull a roster of four security personnel who can be trusted, beyond orders, to keep information confidential and relay the current situation to them. They will also need to be prepared for quick departure.”

“Aye, sir. I’ll have the list to ye within the hour.” Mister Scott stood and departed with a grim nod, Keenser in tow.

Once the chief engineer was gone, Leonard sighed heavily. “If Kodos has Jim…”

“I know.” Spock did not want to think about what state Jim would be in when they found him. “But we are not so helpless or uninformed as Kodos believes us to be. _That_ will be his undoing.” Spock made to leave, walking to the door of McCoy’s office before saying “I will contact you the moment I find something, until then, I will be in my quarters meditating before we attempt to contact Jim again.”

He left the office and strode through the corridors of the Enterprise, his mind reeling from all their discoveries. He attempted to suppress the fear welling up within him. He would not give import to the statistical likelihood that Jim would be dead before they reached him. 

When things had been dire on Altimid, Spock comforted Jim by telling him they would do as they have always done and find hope in the impossible. He reminded himself that he, too, must find hope in the impossible, or all would be lost.

He entered his quarters and sat promptly at his desk. There were a few items he needed to put into motion before he meditated. He briefly debated his next move. Like a game of chess, he needed to examine the board, counter any moves made by the opposition and have pieces in place that accounted for viable possibilities. Though one move would be potentially awkward, it was a logical move to make.

He sent an ambiguous comm to his father on New Vulcan using an encrypted diplomatic channel while he began his search for the man known as Karidian and believed to be Kodos. He was not surprised when Sarek quickly answered the comm.

He entered the access code verifying his identity and saw his father appear on screen. They exchanged the standard greeting before Sarek asked, “Why have you contacted me on this channel, Spock?”

“In the essence of time, I am omitting the finer details. However, the captain and another crewmember have been taken by someone we believe to be Kodos the Executioner. We believe he intends to deprive them of their lives.”

There was only a brief pause. “A completion of his original orders?”

That his father did not question his assumptions, trusting that Spock had reached his conclusions logically was a relief. “Indeed. I am, therefore, planning to…subvert several regulations by using my extensive computer skills to track and find Kodos. Should I require it, will you provide me diplomatic immunity?”

Sarek stared silently, most likely processing Spock’s admission and the probability of Spock getting caught. “Should it be required, I will invoke it.”

“Thank you, father.”

“You are my son. Thanks is not required.” 

“My gratitude is still given.” A small part of the tension Spock held released. He would do what was needed to rescue Jim and if Starfleet or the Federation chose to bring charges, he might require his father’s support. Spock’s relief must have been more palpable than he thought because Sarek’s next question was not expected.

“Captain Kirk is indeed an accomplished Starfleet officer, and was instrumental in saving what was left of our people on Vulcan-That-Was, however, I must ask: Is he worth this sacrifice?”

Spock had not planned to divulge the information now, but one word would convey to his father all he needed to know to understand Spock’s willingness to sacrifice himself for Jim. “He is _t’hy’la_.”

Though he rarely could break his father’s practiced countenance, the shock of Spock’s statement showed. “ _T’hy’la_? You are certain?”

“I am.” There was no reason now to withhold the other truth. “We are bonded.”

Acknowledging his words with a small inclination of his head, Sarek reminded him, “Then Captain Kirk is also a citizen of Vulcan by his bond to you and therefore, can be afforded all the same rights and privileges thereof.”

Spock’s hands, though unseen to his father, finally unclenched in his lap. “I will relay the message, should Captain Kirk wish to remain bonded.”

Predictably, Sarek’s eyebrow rose in inquiry. He did not, however, ask any further personal questions. “Is there anything else you require of me at this time?”

“Negative.”

“Then I wish you success, both in finding your _t’hy’la_ and repairing your relationship.” Sarek raised his hand in the _ta’al_. “Live long and prosper, my son.”

Spock returned the gesture. “Peace and long life, father.”

The communication ended. No sooner had they disconnected, than his console pinged with incoming data from Mister Scott. He opened the communication and reviewed the choices for the rescue team. One was perhaps an eclectic choice, but he could find no fault with his choices. He approved the list. Duty accomplished and with no further time to waste, Spock began his search for Kodos.

It was hours later, after search upon search yielded nothing, after breaking and breaching firewalls and opening back doors into virtual spaces that only smugglers and slave traders used, that Spock begrudgingly admitted being impressed by Kodos’ concealment of his activities and whereabouts. He had hidden his tracks well.

Spock was forced to finally delve into the dark underbelly of bounty hunters and assassins. Though Kodos most likely acted alone (or with his daughter), to murder the other members of The Nine, he would need help to breach borders and have contacts that could track people with little regard for laws. He would need the knowledge on how to kill them in such a way that murder was not the first suspected cause of death.

However, this world was full of misdirection and deliberate dead ends; cryptic, covert, and complex. It was logical when one considered their illicit professions. What he needed to learn was all veiled behind sophisticated fronts for legitimate businesses and only those with a passkey, a way to decode the encryption protecting the underlying data, would be able to contact them. It was why he had left a program running on a particularly disreputable forum known to house such individuals. It would obtain a passkey for him.

Spock hoped it would lead him to a mistake; one that would become Kodos’ downfall.

While it ran, he chose to meditate. The two contacts with Jim’s mind had caused him great distress. He did not want the next connection to fail. He must figure out a way to help Jim use the bond to their advantage. It took longer to calm his mind and soothe the chaos within – that was to be expected – but he managed to revitalize his shields and create a short-term, albeit untested, solution.

If Jim’s feedback began to overwhelm again, he would direct the input to what could only be described as a safe; a dedicated place created within his mind with abnormally thick shields where he could temporarily contain the battering images and emotions until his next mediation, or next several meditations. In theory, it should work much like the amnesia humans could experience after severe trauma.

As with any unprocessed trauma, the examination of it could prove compromising. But once Jim was rescued, safe and back aboard the Enterprise, Spock would deal with the ramifications of all his actions. He would make this solution work. He would not lose his connection to Jim again. He would find him and Kodos would pay.

He came out of his meditation to a persistent beeping. 

His heart pounded harsh against his side as he rushed to his console. His fingers flew across the screen, drilling down into multiple shells, until he came to the marked folder. Blood roared in his ears as he opened it. He studied the data, a small, indulgent smile ticking up the corner of his mouth. He had found him. He breathed in, the tightness in his lungs relaxing incrementally. He had found him.

Back to back, he comm’d Mister Scott and McCoy, informing them of the progress and where they were headed. They were to meet him in McCoy’s office in ten minutes. He closed connection and promptly contacted the bridge. Alpha shift was almost over.

“Mister Sulu, from our current position, how long will it take to get to the Benecia colony?”

“At warp two, twenty-four hours, sir.”

Spock paused, making various rapid calculations. “Increase our speed to warp factor four-point-five and lay in the coordinates I have relayed.”

“Yes, sir.”

He closed the channel and strode with renewed purpose to McCoy’s office. They had sixty minutes to plan before they arrived at Benecia, during which he would also attempt to contact Jim again through the bond. It would be one last attempt to gain any information that could tell them where on Benecia Jim was being held and to assure Jim they were coming for him. Jim only needed to hold on until they arrived.

Though he could increase the warp factor and arrive within mere minutes, Spock knew they needed to prepare. With every step towards the medbay, Spock felt himself, illogically, appealing to the universe that sixty minutes, so brief and fleeting a measurement when weighed against a lifetime, would not be too late.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Comments and kudos are always appreciated.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek, nor am I profiting from this in any way. I am merely playing with the characters for enjoyment's sake.


	10. Chapter Ten

Jim no longer knew what time was. The darkness and monotony of his days bled together, almost as much as the slices on his skin. He had dozed off in the quiet, it was all he could manage anymore. He didn’t really sleep, at least nothing that counted as restful anyway. 

Time wasn’t the only loss. He couldn’t even feel most of his body, not in the way he should. Besides the obvious, he was sure he had some nerve damage from the constant bondage and the hours spent hanging for the monsters to mark and maim him. And he had a new ache today, to add insult to his numerous injuries. His eyes were swollen, puffy and heavy, and they pushed against his eyeballs. Any movement at all hurt. He could _almost_ open them halfway. He wondered if he was having a reaction to the cocktail of drugs Kodos was pumping him full of.

Wouldn’t that put a wrench in the asshole’s plans? If he died before Kodos was done with him because of an allergy? Genetic inferiority winning out. Would serve the bastard right. The irony of it all struck him and he laughed. Or tried to. He ended up coughing instead, his lungs pulling tight and his body protesting the spasming. 

At this point, he doubted he had much time left. It had been too long, and he knew Kodos had planned too well. Eighteen years to exact revenge was a long time to wait. Hell, even though Spock’s background check had flagged Lenore, it hadn’t seen anything else. He closed his eyes. Wasn’t anything to see anyway, and it hurt less.

He heard it then, felt it crawl inside him: the dark little voice inside, the one he’d long fought with – back when he endured repeated beatings from Frank, back when his mom had checked out of being his mom, back when Sam left him, back when Tarsus happened, back when his recovery was a hairsbreadth away from failing – beckoning to him to permanently close his eyes and just give in. Give up the fight. It would be easier. Peaceful. Less painful.

He felt himself slipping. What use was it to constantly rail against a life that had tried time and again to kill him? Fuck, he’d already been dead once. As far as things went, coming back to life and living was a fucking far sight harder than dying. Maybe it was better this way. Save everyone from his bullshit. He knew he was a broken mess of a human being.

Even if he did survive and was rescued, what kind of thing would he be? What kind of reflection would he see? And he knew from his last round of intensive therapy and recovery, there was no easy way to process what had happened, what was happening. It would never really go away.

On top of that, he hadn’t seen Kevin since the beginning. He didn’t even know if he was still alive. The hopelessness inside him grew. He had failed.

He grunted out as the pain behind his eyes suddenly sharpened, talons digging deep. Maybe he was going blind; one last indignity to his body to suffer before his death. Sagging under the weight of it all, he let his mind fill with the darkness of his thoughts.

_Do not despair, Jim. We will be with you soon. We are coming for you._

He jerked in his bonds, goosebumps pricking along his flesh, before he felt an overwhelming sense of peace chase away the encroaching darkness and pain.

“Spock?” he croaked. A sliver of hope blossomed in the dark.

_Yes, Jim. I am here, with you, in your mind._

He cried out in desperation, “Spock! Please! Help me.”

_Calm, Jim. Please calm your mind and focus on me. On our bond. I can only sense your emotions currently, but if you find where I am within your mind and concentrate, we can communicate through the bond._

The joy of hearing Spock cracked and crumbled what little bravado he had held onto. Tears began to fall. “I don’t know how.”

_Do not despair. Follow my presence. Find me. I understand it is difficult, but you must. You must try._

He nodded, though no one could see him do so. He took a few rattling breaths, and _concentrated_. The sensation felt like being slightly drunk, a buzzing and lightheadedness while he tried to find Spock. He followed the soothing surges of calm and affection and Spock’s voice inside his head repeating over and over: _Come to me. I am here._

By the time he finally found where Spock’s essence was the strongest, Jim was exhausted. He curled himself into the reassuring familiarity of Spock. The spot within his mind was warm, vibrant, and comforting.

“Spock?”

_Reach out to me. Touch me._

It felt strange, to feel a mental hand reach out for him, but he reached back with all he could and gasped out loud when their connection crackled and exploded. His body trembled, shaking in quiet wonder at it all.

_Well done, Jim. Now try speaking to me with your mind. Form the thought first, order it and when stable, send it to the place where we touch._

It felt so weird, like his brain had a tongue that was tripping over itself trying to speak a different language. But he finally managed two words. _Like this?_

 _Excellent, Jim. Very good._ _Now, keep your thoughts together. Coalesce them into succinct images or words. Any information you can give us to aid in your rescue._

Rescue. His whole soul rejoiced, giddy from a single word. Rescue.

_Focus, Jim. Please._

He nodded to himself again, eyes squeezing tight, regardless of the additional pain. He began slowly focusing on succinct, clipped words. _Kodos. Lenore. Kevin._

_We suspected Kodos and Lenore. Besides you and Kevin is there anyone else?_

He shook his head, then remembered himself and sent an uncertain no through the bond. Just because he hadn’t seen anyone else, didn’t mean Kodos didn’t have anyone else or guards to help.

_Do you know where you are?_

“I can’t – I don’t…” Jim didn’t know where he was. A barely lit room was all he knew. He could feel the anger and frustration bubbling up, nearly breaking his focus.

_Calm, Jim. Any details are helpful. Windows? Type of room? How many doors?_

Jim took a deep breath, his lungs protesting with another set of barking coughs. He knew this room, had memorized it. It was all he had had to stare at for days on end besides the sinister faces of his tormentors. He drew a picture in his mind, as detailed as he could – the chair, where he was, how he was bound, the door behind him, the light embedded in the wall – and holding tight to the image, pushed it towards Spock’s presence in his mind. 

For a moment, there was nothing. Then fire flared in his mind, a seething ire, before it abruptly banked. It left him shivering in the sudden intensity and loss.

_I apologize. I did not mean to cause you further pain._

He forgot himself, saying out loud “I know, I’m sorry – “

The door behind him swished open. “Who are you talking to, boy?”

Jim seized in panic, flailing for Spock’s presence. He shouted, “Spock, please. Help me!” He felt Spock’s answering panic across the bond as Kodos grabbed at him.

“Who is Spock?”

Jim vaguely recognized a second pair of footsteps as Lenore stepped around into the light. “His first officer. A filthy half-breed Vulcan,” she sneered.

“The only filth here is you,” Jim spat back.

“He’s called out to him once before.” Kodos paused. “Hm. Vulcan, you say?”

“Half-Vulcan, but yes, sir.”

“Unfortunate.” He dropped Jim’s chin. “Vulcans can establish melds if close enough.”

“Even through walls?”

“It has been recorded. But there’s been no one else here, no security breaches.” Kodos stared at him. “Unless he’s bonded himself to the mongrel.” Kodos grabbed him again, roughly jerking him.

Though he could only open his eyes so far, he hoped the hatred in them was unmistakable. If only looks could kill.

“Did you bond yourself to a half-breed?” Kodos turned his head slightly left and then right, as if trying to peer into his mind before dropping it in disgust. “Like seeking like, I suppose. Inferiority begetting inferiority.”

Every use of his voice felt like chewing on shards of glass, but he rasped out, “Says the psychotic asshole and his psychotic spawn. No one is superior to anyone else.” He drew a deep breath into his lungs to finish. “Anyone who thinks so is suffering from delusions of grandeur, narcissism, and an over inflation of self-importance.”

Kodos eyes narrowed, his jaw clenching. “Looks like we will have to finish our sessions sooner rather than later.” Lenore shuffled around behind her father as Kodos leaned forward enough to whisper against his ear, “It won’t matter if or when your alleged rescuers arrive. There will be nothing left for them to retrieve but a broken husk.”

He pulled away from Jim and barked out an order. “Lenore, bring in the other one. We have no time to waste. They can die together, as it should’ve been back on the colony.”

Kodos waited to start until Lenore returned. He heard the struggle as Kevin was brought in, though Jim couldn’t see him in his peripheral vision, but whatever Lenore did, made Kevin grunt and moan in pain.

“Leave him alone,” he snarled. He heard Lenore’s laugh, bright and maniacal, then a loud crack followed by Kevin’s whimper. The sound cut him deeper than any wound they’d inflicted. “I’m sorry, Kev,” he said, soft and broken.

It was all he got to say before Kodos began. Slice upon slice, cut upon cut, was laid upon his body. He had no idea how many they were at now and the monster wasn’t making him count anymore. His pain, combined with Kevin’s, left no room for any other thoughts. There wasn’t enough time left. Everything felt so far away and yet too much. 

His body – burning with pain and wet with the warmth of his blood – had met its limit. All he knew was an oppressive, persistent tiredness. He curled inside himself, huddled protectively against what was happening to him. He sought comfort, an echo of Spock’s words repeating within his mind. _Do not despair, Jim. We will be with you soon. We are coming for you._

Spock was coming. He was. Jim just had to make it til then.

~~~~~

Spock woke from the meditative meld in a panic. “We must move now. Kodos knows. He will kill him.” Spock attempted to move off the biobed but swayed when he stood.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Leonard laid a steadying hand on his shoulder. “You’re no good to Jim if you don’t pull it together first.”

Spock agitation grew at every second they wasted. “I am perfectly well.”

“Like hell you are.”

A cough behind them caught their attention. They stared at each other for a brief second longer before they both gave way.

“Jim has shown me where he is being held. It is sparse data but should help us narrow down his whereabouts. Mister Scott?”

“Yes, sir?”

“Run a scan of the Benecia colony, looking specifically for facilities that would use rooms with bunker-like qualities and require drainage in the floors. There were no windows, so underground is a possibility. Perhaps old medical or research facilities?”

“Aye, sir. On it.”

Though still disoriented, Spock made to stand without McCoy’s assistance. He could not deliver his next news and have someone touching him. He deserved no comfort until Jim was safely aboard the Enterprise.

“What now?” McCoy griped as he pulled away. “Let’s not be stupidly heroic or self-sacrificing today, okay? I don’t need to have both of you in my medbay.”

“It is about Jim. His…condition.” The words choked him. He did not want to admit them aloud. “He is dying. I sensed it across the bond.”

Leonard’s eyes grew bright, filling with the same pain Spock was attempting to contain. They had both experienced Jim’s death before. Neither wanted it repeated. He watched while one moment, Leonard’s eyes were full of emotion, and in the next, calm determination. The set of his jaw and the glint in his eyes conveyed his resolve.

“Anything else I should know? To bring in with me?”

“I do not know,” he admitted. “Jim did not show me his wounds in the meld. I only know that it is dire.”

Leonard nodded. “Then I’ll try to plan for everything I can, without packing up the kitchen sink.”

Everything that followed –the gathering of supplies; Mister Scott’s pinpoint on the most two most likely places Kodos was holding Jim; their decision to beam down to one facility together – and then the other one if needed – instead of splitting the team; the scramble of personnel to the transporter room; Spock’s own rush to steady his mind and body before they beamed down; the assembly of eight waiting with bated breath while the transporter energized; the cold, dank dark of the facility’s third floor – all of it faded away into nothingness as they materialized and his Vulcan hearing discerned ragged moans coming from up ahead. 

They had chosen wisely.

He silently motioned for the others to follow him. He concentrated, tracking the sounds to the fourth room on the left. For a brief moment, the world seemed to stop, like the deep, quiet breath before warp speed engaged. His heart pounded in his side as he hacked into the entry panel. The resounding click of the lock disengaging was the signal to breach.

The door opened, Spock rushing forward with the security team following directly behind him. Two immediately dove for Lenore in the corner to their right, while Spock and the others barreled ahead to Kodos. 

His mind railed against the image of the body hanging from the ceiling, covered in copious amounts of blood. It would be seared into his memory forever. He knew it was Jim, but he could not stop until Kodos was no longer a threat.

He threw himself at Kodos, grappling with the monster. They fought, struggling to contain the other. He barely registered a bright flare of pain in his ribs before he gained the advantage. Using his Vulcan strength, he flipped him around and slammed Kodos face first into the wall. He adjusted, yanking both of Kodos’ hands behind him and securing them in one hand, while his other wandered to the back of Kodos’ neck.

The anger within him craved retribution. What little he had glimpsed of Jim made it seem fitting to deal out judgement. Kodos was guilty and deserved punishment. His fingers lingered, twitching as he recalled an ancient Vulcan form of execution: the _tal’shaya_. It would be a quick death. More merciful than the human before him deserved.

A brief flicker from the bond brought him out of his trance. He heard it then, over the other discordant sounds.

“No, Spock. No,” Jim rasped. “He’s not worth it. Must…pay…don’t.”

The world came back to him in garish color. The two security officers with him had been trying to get his attention, to let go and hand over Kodos. He stepped back, letting them take over. “See he is secured.” He then turned to assess the rest of the room.

Lenore was screaming, thrashing and crazed, spouting maniacal nonsense. Two members of the medical team were bent over Kevin Riley before they called out to McCoy that they had him stabilized and requested to beam back aboard. With a terse, “Get the hell outta here,” Kevin Riley and his medical team dissipated.

Spock took heavy footsteps towards Jim. His tortured, naked body was almost unrecognizable. The bile rose in his throat. Jim had been lowered to a blood-stained mat on the floor and Leonard worked frantically beside him. Spock dropped to his knees on Jim’s the other side. 

“Jim – “

Behind him, commotion erupted. He whipped his head to see both security officers down and Kodos sprinting towards them, knife in hand. In unison, Spock and Leonard threw their bodies over Jim, covering his frail body with their own.

The distinct sound of phaser fire and a bright red glow filled the room. A hard _thunk_ sounded just behind him. He straightened himself and glanced behind him.

Kodos lay prone on the floor, knife flung by his fall into an unknown corner. Beyond him, both security officers lay on the ground, breathing hard, but one held the phaser in a white-knuckled grip, still pointed directly at Kodos. Spock crawled to Kodos and laid fingers against his neck. No pulse. Righteousness surged through him, along with immeasurable relief. Kodos was dead.

“He is dead.” He locked eyes with the security lieutenant who fired the shot. 

The lieutenant lowered the phaser, giving a sharp nod and a brisk, “Sir.”

“My gratitude, Mister Hendorff. Please make sure his daughter does not attempt the same.” 

Another nod of acknowledgement, and both security officers stood to take on their next task. He glanced down at the lifeless form. He would not feel remorse for this loss of life. No matter what scenario or calculation he made, the world was an infinitely better place without such evil in it.

McCoy’s exclamation brought his focus back to Jim.

“Goddammit.”

He shifted back to Jim, his chest constricting at the sight of him. His body was littered with cuts, overlaid and crisscrossing, barely any centimeter worth of skin left untouched. “Jim?” Eyelids fluttered but did not open. “Jim?”

McCoy spared him a glance. “He’s been in and out. But mostly out.” He grabbed another instrument from his bag and ran it over Jim’s wounds. “We’re gonna have to beam directly into medbay. I can’t get him stabilized enough.”

Spock kept his eyes on Jim as he asked, “What do you mean, doctor?”

“I can’t get his wounds to heal. The skin won’t mend.”

“Bones?” It came as the barest whisper.

“Yeah, it’s me. Hey, kid.”

“Cyto – “ Jim rasped, hand reaching out to pull at McCoy’s uniform. “Cytotox – “

“Cytotoxic antineplastics?”

Jim gave the barest nod. “Antico…coag, too.“

“Damn.”

“Doctor?”

“He’s got a goddamn cocktail in him that counteracts healing and keeps him bleeding.” He took the medical tricorder out and waved it at the three lines feeding into Jim. When it finished its scan, McCoy capped off and removed the far-left line. “What kind of sick human being does this?” He picked up his tricorder and ran another scan over Jim again. It trilled and beeped in alarm. “And of course, he’s got a fever and an infection. Goddammit.”

Spock’s side suddenly twisted in sharp, striking pain. It crept through his chest making it hard to breathe. He clutched at his ribs, his breath coming out in a hiss.

McCoy’s head snapped up. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing.” He pulled his hand away from his ribs, but it came back covered with bright green blood.

“Were you stabbed?”

Spock tried to recall the details, but his rage had been such that his only focus had been Kodos. He remembered a burning sting as he fought him. “It appears so.”

“Goddammit. Of course you were.”

Spock had never heard the doctor curse so much. Even Jim, though his eyes stayed closed, flinched at the outburst. 

“D-didn’t mean to get hurt…hurt others.” Jim’s voice drifted off and they both strained to hear the words. “S-s-sorry, Bones.”

Leonard’s face immediately softened, running his fingers along Jim’s temple. “Hush now. I’m not mad at you.” He looked up at Spock as he threw open his communicator and comm’d the Enterprise. “We ready to get the hell outta here?”

Spock scanned the room. Lenore was secured and Kodos was dead. Both security teams nodded. “Indeed.”

“Good. McCoy to Enterprise. Nine to beam up; one signature DOA, all straight to medbay.”

Spock could not stop himself. His hand crept and slotted into Jim’s. He could not speak the words out loud, not in this moment, but he pushed his love and concern through the bond, squeezing the clammy hand in his and begged: _Hold on, Jim. Stay with me._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Comments and kudos are always appreciated.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek, nor am I profiting from this in any way. I am merely playing with the characters for enjoyment's sake.


	11. Chapter Eleven

The nearly collapsed lung he had received from Kodos’ stab wound had left him in medbay for two days. Kevin Riley had recovered well and was released after five days. Jim spent twelve days there, four of which were in critical care as his body recovered from the considerable damage that had been wrought upon it.

In those twelve days, Kodos and Lenore had been convicted of murder and attempted murder, kidnapping, and various other crimes. Lenore had stayed on Benecia under constant, institutional, psychiatric care. The death of her father had broken what little mental stability she had left. She would remain there until the end of her days.

It was little consolation to those who lost loved ones, or to Jim or Kevin Riley. Though perhaps, it could be the beginning of finally laying Tarsus and its horrors to rest. No one else would die by Kodos’ hand.

Starfleet had been generous in overlooking the breaking of regulations in order to retrieve Jim. Only two informal disciplinary notations had been made. All in all, a better outcome than he had predicted.

While Jim remained in the medbay, Spock spent inordinate amounts of his off-duty time by Jim’s bedside. Once Jim was released to quarters, it took all of Spock’s control to not check on Jim constantly. He craved the reassurance, especially since he had failed to keep Jim safe. The trauma of their ordeal weighed heavily upon him.

The night before Jim was due to resume his duties as captain, he received a comm from Jim asking Spock to meet him in his quarters. He did not know what Jim wanted or needed, but he would try to provide it with everything he possessed. Even if they never resumed their intimate relationship, even if Jim still wanted the bond severed, he was _t’hy’la._ There would be no other for Spock.

He stood in his evening robe before Jim’s desk. He looked more and more hale with each passing day, though the dark circles under his eyes indicated he was not sleeping well.

“Please, sit.”

He did as he was asked, watching as Jim fidgeted before finally speaking again.

“I, um,” he blew out a breath, “don’t really know where to start.”

Spock did not know either, so he remained silent.

“Damn. This is harder than I thought.” Jim took a deep breath, then those eyes, deep as the ocean and just as vibrantly blue, locked with his. “Can you, I mean, do you still want to try? Us? Together?”

Spock was startled by the direct question. He had not expected the conversation to begin here. His hesitation in answering had Jim babbling.

“I mean, I understand, if not.” Jim’s eyes dropped to his lap. “A lot has changed, and I’m even more a mess, more damaged, and I don’t – “

“Yes.” Spock leaned forward to convey his earnestness. “Yes, I would like to try again.”

“Oh. Okay.” A bit of Jim’s nervousness faded, and he looked up at Spock again. He watched as teeth nabbed and bit at his lower lip while he contemplated his next words. “It’s not because of the bond, right? Making you want to stay?”

“No. Not in the way you believe it to.” Spock explained further. “Vulcan bonds allow us as a species to touch in the most intimate of ways. Vulcans greatly desire this, even need it to survive. The bond with you is much more than that. We are compatible in ways I never expected to find amongst Vulcans or Humans.” And though Spock feared baring himself in this way, feared being rejected – his experiences as the only Vulcan-Human hybrid creating their own deep scars – he did not want to lose Jim. “It only confirms what I already knew but stubbornly remained blind to for a significant time.”

“And what’s that?” Jim asked.

“That my affection, my _love_ , for you, existed even before our bond.” Spock dropped his eyes this time, remembering the events that lead to the accidental bonding. “I believe it is why my touch led to an accidental meld which resulted in a bond.” He gazed up to see those mesmerizing blue eyes staring at him, bright with emotion. “I was reaching for you. All of you.”

Jim gave a small, genuine smile, one of the few he had seen since the rescue. Spock realized how much he had missed them. Their effect on him was always the same; an effusing, enveloping warmth, reminiscent of basking in the heat of the dual suns of Vulcan-That-Was.

“I would like to try again, too. I – I’m sorry I was an ass. Before. That I pushed you away.” His teeth worried at his lips again. “I’m not good at opening up and…sharing.”

“We are much alike in this matter.”

Jim gave a soft chuckle. “Yeah.” Jim paused again. “But we, uh, we will need to take it slow. I’m not ready for, uh, certain things. Yet.”

“I understand.” And he concurred. He did not want to squander this chance.

“Okay. Well, um, that’s all I wanted to ask.” Jim became restless again, twitching and fretting in the brief lull.

“Then you do not wish to sever the bond?”

“No and I – I’m glad you used it to save me. I – it’s,” he huffed out a breath, “I thought it would be invasive, but it feels, you feel, like…home.”

“It is the same for me. I am humbled you are willing to try our relationship again. Perhaps we can begin with a traditional Terran date? Dinner first, then a holomovie in the recreation room or a game of chess?”

Jim’s smile grew even brighter. “I’d like that.”

“Then I will send you times and dates we are both available and you can choose whichever suits you best.”

Jim broke into laughter, his mirth lightening the mood further. “Of course you will.” His eyes crinkled at the edges, a sign that Jim was well and truly amused. “I’ll look it over and let you know.”

Spock was pleased. “Do you wish to discuss anything else?”

Jim shook his head.

Spock stood, Jim following his lead. “Then I shall depart.” He took one last glance at the being before him. Despite all the pain and anguish life had burdened him with, Jim was still here, still trying, still endeavoring to live. It spoke more to the fortitude of Jim’s soul than any other. He only hoped that one day, he would be worthy of its keeping. 

He left Jim’s quarters feeling more at peace than he had in months and that night, fell into his first peaceful sleep in weeks. If he were so inclined, it might compel him to believe in miracles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Comments and kudos are always appreciated.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek, nor am I profiting from this in any way. I am merely playing with the characters for enjoyment's sake.


	12. Chapter Twelve

Deep within his mediation, Spock let his mind wander, reflecting on all the changes in his life since Jim’s rescue.

Six months had passed since the incident at Benecia, and with small, incremental steps, he and Jim had reconnected and renewed their relationship. Understandably, the severity of the trauma Jim suffered was taking time and deliberate treatment to subside into something duller and less stark. It was a permanent part of him, had irrecoverably changed him, and they were both learning and adapting to the new normal.

During that same time, their relationship had progressed along well. They endeavored to remain open with one another, making valiant efforts not to resurrect their protective walls. While most aspects of their relationship had resumed, they looked or behaved differently than before. 

However, there was one that had not resumed: physical intimacy, but more specifically intercourse. Though Vulcan’s did not need release as humans did, he found he still desired that level of intimacy with Jim. Spock understood, given everything that happened, that it may never be as it was before.

They were a work-in-progress. 

In fact, they were each attending their own individual therapy sessions. Though Jim’s therapy was mandated due to the extreme circumstances of his trauma and his position as captain of the Enterprise, Spock had found himself seeking out therapeutic help as well.

His lapses in control and his overwhelming guilt over his failures regarding Jim led him to seek out a Vulcan healer. In doing so, he was more mentally and emotionally sound; a better mate for Jim. A mate that would not fail him.

Jim had been taken from him for the last time. He would do whatever was required, for however long, to ensure he never lost him again. His _t’hy’la_ deserved nothing less.

He was brought back to the present by his door chime. He pulled himself out of his meditation and shaking off the last tendrils of respite, called out, “Come.”

The surprise at his guest was quickly overridden by delight at his presence.

Jim smiled shyly at him, stepping inside as the door swished closed behind him. “Hey.”

“Hello, Jim. Your presence is unexpected.” He saw the worry flitter across his face. He gentled his voice and said, “But most welcome.”

The small smile returned. However, Jim quickly went back to fidgeting, fingers twisting and eyes darting around. Spock waited. It took a whole thirteen seconds before Jim spoke.

“Umm, I uh – fuck,” he muttered.

“Jim?” He took a step. “Is everything okay?”

“I want to show you,” he blurted out.

Spock’s brow creased. “Show me?”

Jim took a breath and plunged forward. “Yeah, show you.” His hands kept twisting, but his eyes settled on Spock’s, fierce and determined. “I want to tell you, show you. Let you see all of me. Just…” Jim drifted off; the rest of the words lost to Jim’s contemplations.

Spock took another step towards him, slow and easy. “I am here. For whatever you need.”

Jim took another breath. “We said no more hiding, right? No more barriers. But there’s still one - still something I have to show you.”

Spock suspected he knew what Jim referred to, and he did not require Jim to bare himself in that way. “If you are uncomfortable, we do not need to do this. You need not force yourself– “

“No.” Jim fervently shook his head. “I need – want you to see me. The real me.”

“Jim – “

“ _Please_.”

Spock bowed his head in deference. If this was what Jim needed, he would give it.

“Can we – can we do this in my quarters, though?”

“Of course.”

Jim moved past him and took the shortcut to his quarters through their adjoining bathroom. Spock followed him, coming to stand just on the other side of Jim’s door. He felt the air brush across the bare skin on the back of his neck as the door sealed shut.

Jim hadn’t stopped moving and began pacing the floor before him, his nervous energy seeking an outlet. Spock stood, watching and listening.

“As you already know,” Jim began, “we were just kids. Hell, Kevin was just six. And Tom – Thomas – he was the same age as me. We were the oldest and it just kind of fell to us to take care of everyone. We came up with a plan to get supplies and food. We knew we had to do something. It was gonna be winter real soon and we wouldn’t be able to survive.” Jim’s voice began to waver. “So, Tom became the lookout while I was the bait. It made sense. Eric, the other older boy, would wait with the others until Tom signaled it was safe to grab what we needed.”

Jim shrugged nonchalantly, as if his next words carried little weight, when they spoke infinite volumes about the child he was and the man he grew to be. “I didn’t care what I had to do as long as the children got fed. And so,” – Jim cleared his throat, stopping to lift his head, eyes an unflinching steely blue as he declared – “so I…did things…used my body to lure them; keep them busy while Eric and Kevin and the others stole what food and supplies they could.”

“Jim, you do not – “

He held up both his hands. “Don’t. I can’t finish this if…just let me finish.”

Spock soul ached for what he suspected was next, but he inclined his head once again in respect of Jim’s wishes.

“We tried to not hit the same group twice, and initially, it worked. The frequent guard changeover made it easy. Towards the end though, the only ones left were Kodos’ hardened militia and we got caught. The rest of them escaped, but Tom and me? Guess our luck ran out.”

Jim’s eyes glazed over in memory, darting off into a far corner of the room. “Kodos had signed our death warrants long before then. I mean, we were supposed to be part of his purge anyway. But after what we’d done, it was personal. So he took us. He tortured us. Planned on doing it until we died. Like we were supposed to have done. But Starfleet arrived before he could finish the job.”

Jim turned back to him then and the depth of pain reflected in those eyes caused Spock’s whole body to seize up, prepared to fight and defend. “He took Tom’s eye and marred his face, since he was the lookout. Had planned on taking the other, too, to blind him. And me? He wanted to make sure I could never use my looks again. _‘No longer a pretty package hiding the garbage within,’”_ he mimicked _._ “The outside would be just as flawed; a perfect match to my inferior genetics.”

Spock vibrated with barely concealed rage; a rage he had not felt since the day they rescued Jim. The moment lingered, with no outlet for Spock’s desire for additional vengeance. Kodos, the monster who had inflicted so much agony and death, was already dead.

Abruptly, Jim turned away and walked to his dresser. He opened the top drawer, pulling out several cosmetic items and then what appeared to be a modified dermal regenerator. He stood there, holding the regenerator in his hand, and huffed, “Unfortunately for him, his plan didn’t work exactly like he wanted it to. Tech came out around eighteen months after we were rescued that made it easier to cover scars. I modified it a bit, to lay down concealer and foundation to perfectly match my skin tone and to last about five days, semi-permanent, so reapplication was minimal. Took a bit of tinkering, but I did it. It gave me back……I could look in the mirror and not see _him_ anymore.”

Spock knew then what was coming, and he did not want Jim to feel obligated, to pressure himself, to feel he _had_ to do anything. “Jim, you do not have to show me – “

“But I do. This,” he sweepingly gestured from his head to his feet, “is just a façade. The real me,” he grimaced, “is scarred and messy.”

“ _Jim.”_ It was a plea, for what Spock couldn’t name, but he wanted Jim to no longer hurt. The next words were so soft, that his Vulcan hearing barely perceived them.

“Will you stay?”

Jim’s eyes were full of fear and desperate hope. He looked into the face of the captain he followed, the man he admired, and the human he loved. He would not reject him. “I will stay.”

Jim’s eyes closed for a brief moment, a sigh of relief ghosting across his parted lips. Jim turned away once again and went to his bed. He placed the regenerator on it before sitting on its edge. Methodically, he unlaced and pulled off his boots, then cast off his socks and shirt, before standing, and in one swift movement, pulled down his slacks and boxer briefs. Stepping out of them, he grabbed the regenerator again, took a few steps towards Spock and stopped.

Spock’s fingers twitched, his muscles taut and tense, preparing for what was to be revealed. Images of that day, Jim lying on the floor, covered in blood and dying, flooded his mind. This would be painful for them both.

Jim spoke softly into the yawning silence as he started to wave the regenerator over his left arm. “He told me it was an old form of torture. Not many survived past a few half dozen cuts in centuries past. Maybe a dozen. The human body being a frail thing after all.”

Spock watched as numerous scars drew a series of hatch marks across Jim’s skin. More were revealed as he moved across his torso; they became longer, deeper, and more pronounced. Spock felt his chest constrict under a weight so heavy, he could scarcely breathe.

He knew what he had seen laid out upon Jim’s body during the rescue, but there were so many more. He could not help but be incensed by the sadistic monster who could do such a thing to a child and then again to him as a man.

Jim continued, his voice taking on a strange cadence. “Death by a thousand cuts. That’s what he called it. Though no one in history ever got that far. But he promised he could. With the advancements in medical tech, he could keep me alive until the thousandth cut: my last.”

Jim kept waving the regenerator over his body, and Spock’s bile grew. The front of his body was littered with many more marks than he had seen that night: marks of a madman. There had to be near two hundred, cascading from a thin line along his jaw, all the way down to the tops of his feet. Spock swallowed against the rage and despair filling him.

“It took me a bit to get this next part right.” Jim unscrewed a disk from the bottom of the regenerator and bent down to lay it on the floor. Blue-ish light emitted from it as he pressed down on the center of it. He stood back up, pressing a few buttons along the wand. A thin panel opened vertically along the device before he placed the regenerator within the field. It hovered, waiting.

Spock’s brow rose in surprise. A stasis field. Though some seemed to forget, Jim was brilliant, a genius in his own right. What he had created was technically impressive, though Spock wished Jim had never needed to. The device also explained how he had never seen the scars before. 

Jim turned his back to the modified regenerator and with the click of some sort of remote he had palmed in his hand, the thin panel glowed bright, illuminating the entirety of Jim’s frame within its clutches. The light changed hues several times and then suddenly brightened.

Though he should have been prepared for what he would see, the sudden breadth of it had him gasping. If the front of his body was devastating, then his backside was infinitely worse. There was hardly any expanse of skin not marked with a scar. It was a garbled mess of white lines from his neck to his heels; some small, fine, and thin, while others were long, deep, and ragged.

Spock fell to his knees in anguish as his mind railed against what Jim had been through, what he saw laid out upon his body.

“He made me keep count. Two hundred twenty-one. That’s how many he made the first time, before Starfleet arrived.” Jim hung his head, his voice laced with a hint of loathing in its tone. “Of course, I added a few of my own in the – while I recovered. That _was_ the count anyway.” His fists clenched tight, knuckles turning white. “But now, there’s at least double that. At least Bones was able to take away some of them.” His laugh was scathing. “What doesn’t kill us makes us stronger, right?”

Spock didn’t know what to do, what to say. He suspected there was nothing he could say. It would amount to nothing but empty platitudes. It would do nothing to ease the pain or the memories, but there was one thing he could say now. 

“I am grateful you survived. I –.” The words strangled him, not only for what they meant, but for all the emotions he had withheld in deference to his Vulcan upbringing. “You bring a vividness and brilliance to my life. You are _las’hark._ My sun. _You_ are irreplaceable to me.”

Jim turned to him, defiance in his stance, but fear in his eyes. “Even like this? Ugly and scarred? Because this,” he said, “this is the real me.”

Spock rose, gingerly making his way to Jim. “Your scars do not change who you are or my feelings for you, though I wish you had never had to bear any of them.” He lifted his hand to graze the scar running along his jawline. “I see you, all of you, and would still have you. If you will have me?”

Jim closed his eyes, taking in a deep, slow breath, his body shuddering with tension.

Spock let his forehead drift forward until it landed gently against Jim’s. “For all that you have lost and endured, I grieve with thee. You do not have to hide it from me. I accept all that you are. I want –“ He faltered. “I _need_ all that you are.”

When Jim pulled back and finally opened his eyes, they shone bright, glassy from unshed tears. He leaned forward, laying his head upon Spock’s chest. His body’s tension eased, the fight leaving with a harsh exhale.

“I’m afraid,” he admitted, his voice muffled against the fabric of Spock’s robe. “I’ve only ever showed a few people before the new ones, and nobody’s ever stayed. At least not for long. Except for Bones,” he amended. Jim huffed a laugh, smiling against his chest. “But he’s probably just too stubborn to leave.”

The corners of Spock’s mouth ticked upwards. “This is true. He also cares a great deal for those under his care. Especially those he loves.”

Jim nodded and whispered, “I know.”

Spock started to wrap his arms around Jim, to pull him into a full embrace, but stopped short. “May I touch you?”

Jim’s voice was soft and faint, but it was just enough for his hearing to decipher. “ _Please_.”

Spock pulled him close, wrapping him tight within his arms. He began running his fingers gently up and down his back in long, soothing strokes. He was able to feel the unevenness in the skin; the slight raise of some, the indentions of others. He came across one in particular and Jim shivered, sucking in a breath.

Spock stilled. “Did I hurt you?”

“No. That one, it’s always been…sensitive.”

Comprehension dawned. He had mapped these areas many times before, in their most intimate moments, though he had not known some of Jim’s erogenous spots were also some of his scars. Until now.

“Does it bother you?” he asked quietly. “That they can bring you pleasure?”

“I…I don’t know. I try to not think about it. They say pleasure and pain are too close in the human brain, that they can bleed over.” He shrugged; face still buried against him. “I don’t know.”

“They can mingle,” Spock agreed, “but if you prefer me to avoid those…” Spock still had not moved, waiting for Jim to tell him what he wanted.

Jim just shook his head. “There’d be little left of me to touch. Especially now.” Jim pulled back; those beautiful blue eyes boring into him. “Just don’t change how you touch me because of my scars. Because you can see them all now.”

“I will always enjoy touching you,” he promised, his hands resuming their strokes. “And I intend to make you feel nothing less than exceptional.”

Jim smiled and more tension left his frame. “Show me?” Jim pressed himself harder against Spock’s body. “Make me feel good?”

Spock was unsure. Just because he ached to touch, did not mean Jim felt the same. He did not want Jim to push himself. “Are you certain this is what you want? That you are not pushing yourself beyond your limits?”

“I’m certain. Just…show me I’m not – that it doesn’t matter.”

“Gladly.” Spock walked them gently backwards until the back of Jim’s legs hit the bed. He bent down, laying Jim on the bed. As he debated how best to prove to Jim he was still desired, a solution presented itself. He pondered a moment to fully consider the idea.

“Spock?” Jim had noticed the hesitation.

He bent over and caressed along his cheek in reassurance. “No need to worry. I was contemplating –.” He stilled. His suggestion had potential to cause Jim alarm. Though if it worked, it could prove to Jim his worth in a way mere words could not. He decided to take the chance. “I would like to try – to show you what I feel, but it would require use of my telepathy. Will you allow me?”

Now, Jim hesitated. “What will it feel like?”

“Like a warm blanket of energy embracing you; a cocoon of sorts.” Spock tried to search for more concrete ways to define something that was, for a psi-null being, mostly undefinable. “It will not be invasive and will not hurt. You will be able to sense my surface emotions and thoughts, brief glimpses, but it will allow you to join me in experiencing you. If it becomes too much,” he assured, “you can always use your safe word and I will stop.”

Jim bit his lip. “Will you be able to read my thoughts?”

“No. Only your loudest projected emotions.” Spock ran his thumb across full lips.

Jim blushed, but nodded. “Let’s try it.”

Spock lowered his shields enough to share but not overwhelm and began slowly with unhurried kisses and languid strokes up and down Jim’s bared body. The kisses became needy, and only once Jim’s lips were thoroughly ravaged and his breathy moans asked for more did Spock move lower to pay homage to every centimeter of him. He traced along paths long ago mapped as sensitive, caressing and stroking and massaging, only to kiss and suck and nip at the same areas. He sent out reverence, admiration, and love as he went.

Jim’s eyes widened. “I can feel you,” he breathed.

Spock looked up, pressing soft kisses to the inside of Jim’s knee. “It is not too much?”

Jim shook his head and closed his eyes. “It’s – I can’t describe it.” Jim’s body began to quiver. 

Spock checked him, running his fingers up and down Jim’s spread legs. He sensed a heightened mindfulness – a concentrated effort from Jim’s mind and body – sensitizing him to Spock’s touch and telepathic waves, but no distress.

“You are…exceptional.” Spock shuffled between Jim’s legs, hands stroking further up to run along hipbones. “Beautiful, compassionate, a genius. Your scars,” his fingers splayed, tracing along several, “are triumphs against death and adversity. Proof of your ability to adapt and survive.”

Spock covered Jim, kissing him lightly. “Open your eyes.” Blue eyes, brimming with emotion, fluttered open at his command. “You are magnificent. Inside and out.” He concentrated, sending more waves of unfiltered affection.

In a quick flurry of movement, Jim grabbed Spock, crushing their mouths together. Everything blurred. They clung to each other, pressing, as if by pressing hard enough, they would merge. They parted only when their breaths became thin, when the need for air in their lungs outweighed their need to devour each other.

Pulling away, with lips swollen and red, Jim gasped, “Gods, I want you.”

“As I want you.” It had been too long; too long without being buried inside the one he wanted as his mate, too long without a physical connection, too long without the soothing touch of Jim’s body against his. He craved it, but he feared moving too fast. After all this time, things seemed to be escalating quicker than he had anticipated.

Spock ran his fingers down Jim’s chest, pressing firmly from sternum to just above a flushed, rigid cock. “Though I cannot deny desiring the same, are you certain about taking this step? You do not need to push yourself.”

The blue of Jim’s eyes flashed bright, vivid like the sea in the tempest of a storm and he grabbed for Spock again, bending him over his body to bring their lips within mere millimeters of each other. “I know. But I also know what I want. And what I want is to feel you inside me.”

Spock’s resistance crumbled. He could not refuse him. He stared into those eyes and found himself aching to drown in them.

He kissed along a jawline, fingers drifting down to deftly tweak nipples into stiff peaks. Jim arched his approval, tangling his fingers in Spock’s hair to push him harder into his chest. He used his mouth and fingers to awaken every nerve, working his way down a toned stomach, watching it ripple and flex, rise and fall, with every perfectly administered erotic point.

He dug hard into Jim’s hips, pushing thumbs into the hypersensitive skin beside his twitching shaft. He drew tantalizing circles with them, following them up with gentle swirls of this tongue. Jim tried to buck his hips into his mouth to gain more pressure, but Spock held firm. He glanced up, biting back the ache to reclaim and demand. “Tell me, Jim. Tell me what you want.”

“You,” Jim breathed. “All of you.”

“You already have me.” Spock stood, discarding his robes and undergarments. Jim let out a low whimper at his revealed nakedness. He lowered himself back between Jim’s legs. “I am yours, always,” he vowed, low and raspy, before mouthing along the soft skin of his testicles and up the throbbing vein of his shaft and when he reached the spongy head, he sucked it loudly into his mouth.

Jim arched off the bed, beautiful and resplendent in his need. Spock continued, thorough and unhurried in his treatment. Once he could taste the sweet beads of precum on his tongue and Jim was quivering beneath him, he pulled off, letting Jim fall from his mouth.

Jim keened.

Though he did not desire to deny him, Spock still had wide expanses of Jim left to cherish. He would leave no centimeter untouched. Every part of him was precious, infinitely exceptional. Here, now, wholly in front of him, bared in so many ways, he was more gorgeous than ever.

How much time he spent lavishing attention on Jim, showing him with actions how precious and rare he was, Spock did not know, but eventually the soft, breathy pleas convinced him to go further. He leaned over, pulling open the drawer beside the bed and grabbed the lubricant. Pouring a generous amount on his fingers, he spread it, warming it, before moving back to Jim.

His breath stuttered in his chest at his _t’hy’la_ stunningly laid out before him. Jim was magnificent with his skin flushed pink from Spock’s devoted ministrations. Even still, when all the evidence pointed to his consent, he asked once again. “Are you certain?”

Another smile. “Yes.”

It was all he needed. He dragged the two fingers down Jim’s perineum and lightly circled the furled muscle, tightly closed against him. His other hand cupped testicles, rolling and massaging as he worked the same pattern to the firm ring.

Jim hummed his approval and his voice shook as he confessed, “Fuck. I’ve missed you.”

Spock moved, keeping his fingers pressing and massaging at his entrance while he braced his other hand beside Jim’s head, leaning in to make his own confession. “As have I.” He pressed a long, slender finger into Jim. His body greedily accepted the singular digit, easily taking it to the third knuckle. In and out he pumped until Jim clawed at his shoulders.

“Please, I need _more._ ”

He withdrew his finger before gently pressing in two, shivering at the heat soaking into his fingers. It was as erotic for him as anything else they did; the constant stimulation on his fingers, the heat and wetness, the clenching of muscle tight around his digits, made him as sensitive as Jim.

Jim’s body drew taut and bowed, oversensitive. Spock could feel the energy crackling along his skin through their connection. “You are opening for me so beautifully, letting me back into your body so eagerly.”

“Fuck, Spock.” Jim hips moved in time with his thrusts, bearing down, trying to get Spock deeper inside. “I’m ready. Gods, _please_ , I’m ready.” Jim threaded fingers into his hair and pulled him down for a kiss. Jim bit at his lip, drawing it into his mouth before letting go with a lewd suck _._ “Inside me. Now.”

Spock removed his fingers from the tight embrace of Jim’s body and leaned back over for the bottle of lubricant. He poured a small amount into his palm and then grasped his leaking shaft, pumping up and down several times to coat himself. When he finished, he was shaking with need. He readjusted, settling back between Jim’s spread legs. Cupping behind his thighs, he pushed them back so Jim was laid bare and spread open for him.

Jim’s muscles quivered under his hands. “Yes, please.”

His cock twitched as he edged forward, the head catching on the lax rim. “Ready?”

Jim gripped his biceps and nodded.

The first few centimeters were like a vice around him, even after prepping, until the muscle suddenly gave way and sucked him in. They hissed in unison: Spock at the tightness, Jim at the stretch. Jim threw his head back, the moans vibrating deep in his chest. He rocked out and in, small movements until Jim began to squirm.

Jim took a breath, no doubt to beg him to go further, but he merely pushed forward, sinking steadily into him until their pelvises rested against each other.

Jim shouted out his pleasure. Watching him, wholly splayed out before him, taking his cock and eyes burning a brilliant blue, Spock fell even further for the being beneath him.

He withdrew, a long, slow drag against Jim’s inner walls, before driving deep back inside him. He kept an even rhythm, concentrating on working them both into a fervor; a simmering appetite growing until they were ravenous with hunger.

Jim was more gorgeous than ever before. The strength of him, no one could fathom to understand. Tragedies that would break others, make them cold, dark, and bleak, Jim had fought against and prevailed. He persisted, continuing to be kind, empathetic, and compassionate. Spock’s _katra_ clamored to join with him.

Jim’s thighs strained, pushing back against his hands. He released him, letting him wrap his legs around his waist while he tucked into him, hands running under his back to grip over his shoulders. They took a moment to adjust, to bask in the sudden full-body contact. 

Jim’s arms wrapped around him, dragging him into another kiss. Jim pulled back to look at him, running a finger along an eyebrow, tracing its arch, before falling to his sharp cheekbone and down to map along his lips. Spock saw a flicker of worry in his eyes. Spock stilled immediately.

“Jim?” With this much skin-to-skin contact, Spock could sense the small sliver of disquiet among the emotions of desire and affection. “Is something wrong?”

“No,” he reassured, with a soft shake of his head. He laid both hands on Spock’s cheeks, pecking a quick kiss to his lips and said, “Meld with me.”

It was Spock’s turn to be shocked. His heart stuttered in his side, while his katra leapt in elation. He closed his eyes, trying to stem the tide of possessive want inundating his mind.

Jim gently brought their foreheads together. Nothing but their comingled breaths broke the silence. “Spock?”

He leaned heavier into Jim, trying to find the words. “I – I want this. With all that I am. You are…my friend, my brother-in-arms, my lover: my _t’hy’la_. But this is, perhaps, rash; a side effect of our intimacy. I do not want you to regret it. Regret being bonded to me.”

“Oh, Spock.” Jim tilted Spock’s head back and whispered, “Open your eyes.”

He did as he bade him, worried at what he would see. All he saw was fathomless blue.

“It’s been six months. We’ve been through a lot, but we made it, together. Found each other again after all of it. This wasn’t only about showing you my scars, it was about showing you me, knowing all of me, because I want to know you. All of you.”

Blood pounded in his ears. His breaths felt heavy and labored within his chest. But his mind was still not convinced it was a reality. Words of warning tumbled out of him. “In our current…state, the meld will consummate our bond. We will be fully mated, married in the eyes of my people.”

Jim’s smile grew as he ground his hips up, clenching around Spock’s cock still buried deep within him. “I _know._ I said all of you, remember? I meant it.” Jim again traced along his facial features while Spock wrestled with the knowledge that Jim was willing to bind them together. “No more waiting. I think we’ve waited long enough.”

A lifetime of rejection for who and what he was, made him ask, “You are certain?” He felt like a broken holovid, repeating himself over and over. “Bonded. Married. To me?”

“Yes.” A single tear broke free and cascaded down Jim’s cheek. “I love you.”

There was no controlling the uneven vibrato in his voice. “ _Taluhk nash-veh k’dular.”_

“I know. Now, make me yours in every way.”

Spock surged forward, crushing their mouths together and gripping tight to Jim. He reveled in the feeling of connectedness, overjoyed at the intimacy to come. He buried his face into Jim’s neck, kissing and sucking and biting along the skin, marking him once again as his. Only this time, it would be all of him: body, mind, and soul.

He drew back, pulling his right hand out from under Jim to tenderly stroke along the same lines that Jim had traced on Spock before settling on his psi points. Before he could ask, Jim answered the unspoken question with a simple, “Yes, Spock. Yes. I’m sure.”

He recited the ancient words. “My mind to your mind; my thoughts to your thoughts.”

The meld was effortless; their bond and status as _t’hy’la_ easing the way. And it was more. More than Spock had dared to conceive of. He sensed the joy, the happiness at the completion of the bond, the elation of their souls meeting and binding as one.

They were opened to each other as they had been with no other. Perhaps it was the strength drawn from their ordeals, or the intimate union of their bodies writhing in sync, or the lowering of walls, stout and long-forged that now lay crumbled between them, but when they touched minds, their souls became a thunderous storm; awe-inspiring, powerful, and majestic to behold. Souls, bared and bright, embraced the other, binding them together as one.

It was complete. They were fully bonded. They were now, truly, _t’hy’la_.

The meld ended, dragging them back into the physical world with their bodies thrusting and grinding, pleading for the same completion. Jim’s arms and legs squeezed tight as Spock snapped his hips into the welcoming heat of Jim’s body. The bond created a sensory feedback loop, propelling them towards the summit of their joint pleasure.

Spock’s rhythm wavered as he felt Jim tense beneath him, internal muscles gripping tight. Jim cried out, coming untouched between them, painting their stomachs and chests in splashes of white as Spock roared, pulling at Jim’s shoulders to bury himself, pulsing his release deep within him.

Though their breaths were harsh and heaving in the aftermath, the bond was a vibrant, pulsating live wire within their minds. He shifted to look down at his bondmate. Blue eyes met his, filled with reverence and love.

“I _feel_ you. I see you.”

“And I you.” Spock dropped his head into the crook of Jim’s neck and closed his eyes once more, relishing the contentment of their minds, bodies, and souls.

Eventually they disentangled, though they lay together for a long while, savoring their well-earned peace.

They might be scarred, imperfect beings, but together they were whole.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE END!! Though please go to the next chapter for my _T'hy'la_ Bang partner's AMAZING art for this fic. It is so good.
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Comments and kudos are always appreciated.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek, not am I profiting from this in any way. I am merely playing with the characters for enjoyment's sake.


	13. FANART OMG!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Below is the fanart created by Ceostre for my fic for the _T'hy'la_ Bang 2020 challenge.
> 
> I *literally* cried when I saw them all. They are gorgeous and deserve so much love. My heart. Please follow the tumblr link and reblog their post if you can, so that everyone can see their gorgeous art!

I have put all the amazing fanart below. It is in the order that it appears in the fic. Please enjoy and give it much love!

Ceostre tumblr post with all the art: [Ceostre Fanart](https://ceostre.tumblr.com/post/621638212351311872)

[NSFW - Spirk](https://i.imgur.com/Ssi9MAL.png)

[I grieve with thee](https://i.imgur.com/cMhoEsS.png)

[The Monster](https://i.imgur.com/5tldG0t.jpg)

[Pain and Suffering - NSFW](https://i.imgur.com/m1BZV6j.png)

[Healing Our Wounds - NSFW](https://i.imgur.com/R1XPhQA.png)

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Comments and kudos are always appreciated.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek, nor am I profiting from this in any way. I am merely playing with the characters for enjoyment's sake.


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